Conformity is a drug: the shopping centres filled with Starbucks qualify as pushers, catching the still malleable teenagers and the increasingly desperate middle-aged hipsters (and everyone in between) with promises of easily attainable happiness – oh, how eager the prey is! – and only the chosen few can see that underneath the sparkly wrappers is candy no less deadly for being utterly tasteless.
The lobotomy companies are selling “brain death” to the sound of plasticky pop Britney, the smell & taste of caramel skinny latte and the sight of shiny logos fabricated for pennies by sad-eyed children in China, before being sold in the West for an exorbitant amount of money.
Folks are running, racing with glee, to go on meaningless sprees, paying – going into debt – diving into the red for the privilege of being turned into sheep.
I live in a society where the real luxuries are time and individuality, the first one can’t be bought and the second comes at a heavy price although it’s not monetary. Refusing to bow down to pressure and the majority, insisting on utilising your mind, refusing to blindly accept and daring to contest — therefore standing apart from the crowd, can be bloody hard sometimes, and it takes real strength to hold on to your personality, and sanity.
That said, I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Let the sheep wallow in blatant self-deceit if they wish. I – now and to my last breath – choose depth over superficiality.
*Okay, so those familiar with this blog and/or me will know that this a recurrent theme. I don’t particularly like to repeat myself, but this was written after a birthday party I went to last saturday that didn’t quite go according to plan.*
Image Credit: “The consumption of Individuality” by Tyler Reitan @deviantart.com