Societal Frustration

I apologise for the rant that will follow.

People. Individual in every way, or so we like to believe. Somehow special, unique, a singular creation with a specific essence never to be repeated in human history, or so we tell ourselves. I'm ‘ special’, just like every other creature that walks the earth, swims in the depths or soars above us. I’m unique, just like everything else.

So, to the point of this debacle. For fuck’s sake, stop subscribing to societal norms and still expect that society pays heed to your individuality. Emos, rockers, geeks, goths, nerds, preppies, clubbers, intellectuals, bloggers, myspace-ers, hippies, stoners, fucking nose piercers association or whatever happens to be fashionable or cool or fucking interesting this weekend; well done, people. In an expression of your ‘individuality’ and right to completely fuck up your life in whatever way you apparently have the freedom to choose, you go and subscribe to another group, and identify yourself with the fellow fucking ‘rebels’. Oh my goodness! They’re just like you! In the process of fighting the norm, you identify with another norm. Well fucking done.

So tell me, what makes you so damn individual or ‘special’ when you club every other damn night with the other fellows who club every other damn night? Or when you sit around going ‘no one understands me’ with other people who sit around going ‘no one understands me’? Or when you dress in black with bits of metal sticking out of your face and sit around street corners with people also dressed in black with bits of metal sticking out of their faces? No, we’re not alike, he’s got a daith and she’s got a monroe! Well done.

The only difference between you and the faceless mass of humanity is that your faceless mass happens to ‘defy’ the norms of another faceless mass.

Get it through your heads people:

You will never be ‘free’.

You will never be ‘understood’.

You are not as ‘special’ as you think you are.

The world does not revolve around you.

And even when you think you’ve emancipated yourself, you’ve merely changed residence to another cage.

Individuality obfuscates. At the end of that long causal chain is a simple premise: distraction from the fact that life has no meaning. We are born, we live, we propagate the species, and we die. Once you get that into your head, that life has no damn fucking meaning, then you can start making your own meaning.

A special mention for those who profess to love themselves, or think that they are in some manner ‘great’: stop masturbating already and get with the programme, that there is no programme. Your life means diddly-squat.

This post is not without a strong scent of irony.