Why are we here?

What Are We Really Doing?

Maybe I’m the only one asking this question.

Maybe I should stop thinking so much, fall back in line, keep my head down and carry on with what I’m supposed to be doing.

Nothing to see here…

But what are we doing—really? Are we here to chase purpose, to uncover passion? Or are we just polished versions of the same old patterns, carbon copies of generations before us—fighting familiar battles, making a living doing what we’re told we’re good at?

How often do we actually think for ourselves? Not react. Not repeat. Think.

My thoughts rarely line up neatly. They come in fragments—connections that make sense internally but resist translation. As soon as I try to form them into words, they scatter like light through fog. It happens with most of my thoughts, if I’m honest.

Lately, I’ve found myself in limbo—a quiet space between phases of life. Earthly pursuits on pause, emotions bubbling up, looking for an exit. And in the silence, I’m learning to sit with it. To sit with myself.

When we glance back at our lives, at history, and then look ahead to what’s coming… what do we really see? Is there hope for a turning point—a collective awakening? Or are we hurtling toward more of the same, wrapped in a shinier disguise?

We live on loop, thirsting for something real but always drinking from mirages. Knowledge is rationed. Experience feels increasingly hollow. Comfort is available—but only the shallow kind, only on the surface.

Some of us are stuck in survival mode—working, scraping by, carrying invisible burdens. Others are floating above it, locked in their heads, avoiding the world through distraction and fear. Either way, we’re all running—performing, reacting. Just rats in a maze.

Stories like The Matrix or Dark City might be science fiction, but their metaphors cut close. Maybe the enemy isn’t some external machine, but the programming within our own minds. Maybe the prison isn’t made of steel, but belief—belief in who we’re told we are, and what we’re supposed to do.

We swap needs for wants. Feed our egos with empty calories. Numb ourselves into silence.

I imagine a time—not so long ago—when we lived more simply, more in sync with nature. A time before mass media and manipulated attention spans, when our sense of self was still ours.

Many of the tribes that once understood this balance have been pushed aside by the relentless force of “progress.” And now, generation by generation, our ability to think independently fades.

We trade authentic connection for social media metrics. The digital replaces the human. Binary replaces nuance. Everything becomes a reaction, a performance, a distraction.

It’s as if our very minds have been hijacked—values eroded, morality twisted, critical thought discouraged. A chess game we never agreed to play, with rules we don’t understand, against opponents who never lose.

This might sound like a bleak outlook—and maybe it is. But I can’t ignore the feeling that many people are simply sleepwalking through life. Happy enough, maybe. But disconnected. Distracted. Distant from their own essence.

Throughout history, the same pattern repeats: the many ruled by the few. Identity reduced to a role, a number, a label—each person molded to serve a system that doesn’t serve them.

And behind it all, figures who believe themselves to be gods—manipulating, profiting, ascending—untouched by the weight they place on everyone else.

We're kept in neatly contained bubbles. Connected by wires and screens, yet isolated in spirit. Conform, or face resistance. Think differently, and life becomes harder—barricades at every turn.

The world becomes a circus of distractions, every side show engineered to pull us away from original thought. Our minds, once wild and creative, are now just processors of external data. We’re stuck in constant alert mode—anxious, scattered, automated.

And now, as we sink deeper into the digital, as artificial intelligence begins to think for us—what part of us will be left? What purpose will we serve when the machines no longer need us, and we’ve forgotten how to need ourselves?