Creation or Evolution?

Turning Down the Volume

My mind has always been reactive. The moment I wake up, I can feel the current pulling me—thoughts rushing in, external noise pressing down. It takes effort to turn down the volume, to not immediately plug into the chaos outside. But let’s be honest—there’s always plenty to react to.

For most of my life, I’ve been an emotional over-thinker. Everything was personal, everything overanalyzed. But something’s shifted lately. Maybe through self-reflection, maybe just time. My thinking feels a bit different now—more grounded, more measured. As if there’s someone else in my head now—a wiser voice, like a sibling or a trusted friend, offering logic when I need it most. Someone who steps in and says, “Let’s look at this a different way.”

I originally wanted to write about AI, and how adopting a more structured, logical mindset can be a way to ease anxiety. But the deeper I went, the more I found myself circling back to the feeling of disconnection—from ourselves, from others, from meaning.

Years ago, I spoke with someone who shared the same unsettling feeling I had: even in a crowd, we felt alone. Surrounded not by people, but by zombies. Every conversation seemed manufactured—media soundbites, preloaded opinions, like programmed lines in a simulation. It was rare to meet someone with truly original thought, someone who felt awake.

And maybe that’s the scariest part: how close we already are to becoming like AI.

Sure, we have emotions—but we’re often taught to hide them, especially when we’re young. We learn early on that showing too much is dangerous. So we build walls, suppress what’s real. And eventually, we lose touch with our own humanity. That disconnection becomes the root of depression, anxiety, even identity loss.

We become empty vessels, clinging to secondhand beliefs. Conditioned to act, to react, to judge. We’re fed fear, anger, division—and we take the bait, every time. Somewhere along the line, we stopped asking real questions. Or maybe we were just discouraged from doing so.

I’ve also noticed our growing obsession with fantasy and fiction. Superhero films, worlds of magic and power—it’s everywhere. And while there’s nothing wrong with imagination, it feels like a distraction on purpose. The more we live in fictional realities, the less we engage with our own. These stories may entertain, but they also program us. And that programming dulls our desire to create something of our own. It feeds consumption, not imagination.

So what’s the end goal here? Is it just capitalism, consumerism, clicks? Or is there something more intentional going on—something that wants us disconnected, unquestioning, easy to control?

Because the truth is, we have the technology. We could be living in a world where no one is left behind. Where food, shelter, and healthcare are human rights, not privileges. But we’re not. We’re kept busy, distracted, chasing shadows while the cage closes in.

It’s a cycle—repeating, tightening. And with every generation, it feels more refined. Fewer people ask why, and even fewer dare to break away.

We’re living in loops. Rats in a maze.