The most profound thoughts only come to a person after the text is written, in the conclusion. Which is a drag because you could have a banger of an introduction, but no.
There’s a noise in my head. And I’m afraid that you might hear it. I have a habit of not editing things. So I tend to spew whatever is on my mind and any regret I have is delayed. Could this be a flaw? May we one day be ashamed at the way we waxed poetic with reckless abandon all over the internet? We hang up our hearts and souls to dry and we await any sense of gratification, instant is always preferred. We mould ourselves to suit the preferences of others. We go on journeys to find out who we are only to change it for the likes and comments.
Unless it’s who we really are. Human beings are social creatures, they say. So it might be that we’re regressing to a primal state while transcending to a heightened sense of sentience. We’ve evolved to our most advanced and primal state. We seek basic comfort at the speed of light. It’s an evolutionary paradox. We want cyber-hugs and hyper-kisses.
Nowadays, the Id is fed by the buzzing in your pocket. If Freud was alive, he’d coin some Greek term for the attachment we have to our phones and the need we have to display ourselves to the world.
Question is, at the next evolutionary stage, will we be ashamed? We would have every reason to be. We have displayed every weakness for the predators to feed upon us. Fellows gratify us and foes feast upon our vulnerability. But the possibility that we might not be ashamed is there. We are always grateful to our ancestors for recording their present for us to view. We thank them and continue to record our own present for future generations. Might it be that one day they might be grateful for what we have done? They may marvel at our ability to come so far as to tell them what’s on our minds, a simple and impossible task.
You display your pain and suffering in a glass case so that I won’t feel alone. I spew the noise in my mind so that you won’t feel alone. We scream together through these words, though we are afraid. We’ll regret it later.