Kraken of Consumerism

consumer
Gif by: Unknown

It’s strange how you realise you don’t want something until you have it.

I suppose it is the equivalent of “You never know the value of something until you’ve lost it.” that I never saw coming.

Lately, I feel like I am growing increasingly singular, that I am going waist-deep into larger-than-life concepts, espousing new ways of being that I don’t always know how to explain. What I have understood so far is this: I am growing tired of restless consumerism, of consuming for the sake of consuming, of always being hungry, always eating, and yet never feeling sated.

I am hating how consumerism is the default way of existing, that we consume as an automatism, never fully conscious of what we are doing. I mean, how many times have you bought something only to later realise you did not need or want it? That it didn’t fit you, that it would never serve you any purpose? Or the way we consume our time—haven’t you ever been idling about, and then somehow, found yourself waking up from a spell, realising that you’d been scrolling through Facebook or Instagram for an hour now and that, try as you might, you could not really say what it was you were doing?

And I don’t think it’s about consumerism itself, but rather about the way we consume things. Like an automatism. Without thinking. Without needing it, really. Or needing it just for the sake of having it, then moving on to greater things to consume.

I cannot help but feel that that kind of consumerism steals our consciousness away from us. Makes us black out and ignore the world and our natural selves as we become monsters, krakens of consumerism without knowing. We don’t know that we’ve changed or what we’ve become because we don’t know what we’ve been doing. And it’s such a vicious circle, this wanting. This hunger that is like a black hole, a void that can never be filled even as it sucks you in, even if it were to have the whole universe.

I don’t want that anymore.

I want my time back. I want to see where I am going.

Although at the same time, this revelation does not come alone. It brings with it other truths, uncomfortable facts that I do not wish to deal with. Not yet, at least.

These Unromantic Addictions

“Since when did I need to have all my senses occupied, confounded all at once? Since when have I been fighting the silence of my own soul? “

forests
Source: Rainonawindopane

I wonder who I was before I had a smartphone? It might seem silly but…how did I take my meals before, if not before a phone screen? (Probably in front of the TV, my mind supplies). But why do I need a distraction from food? Food is delicious. An all-consuming kind of experience all on its own. And yet why?

Since when did I need to have all my senses occupied, confounded all at once? Since when have I been fighting the silence of my own soul? The kind that is without distraction. A silence of the eyes, the mouth, the ears, the mind. I feel as though all these voices from outside have shut the one from within, drowning it out in noise, its message lost in the static. No, truly, it has become hard to do nothing. It has become hard to just be. Scrolling down newsfeeds, giving likes, that is the new nothing.

But lately, I have been longing for a deep breath the way a smoker craves the scent and feel of nicotine in their throat. I have been yearning to do nothing. To air out my mind the way you air out a dress that has been stuffed in the back of a closet for too long. The insides of my brains have turned musty. So now, I have this wild desire to have my brain cells caressed by the breeze, to let the coolness of a zephyr tickle my thoughts, turning them crisp and fresh again. I have had enough of this prison of the senses. I do not want to be entertained. I do not wish to be distracted from myself, from the truths swirling inside of me.

I kindof just want to be, away from this unromantic little addiction.

 


Note: This is a late entry for Day 16 of my NaNoWriMo Writing Challenge. You can read the entry for Day 15 here.  This is a bit different from what I usually write, a little less whimsical and not something I expected to write for NaNoWriMo but hey, phones might not be very romantic to write about but they’re still a thing.

Cup of Life, Anyone?

The tea leaves swirl in the old porcelain cup, Her wrinkled hand, darkened from long hours in the sun, energetically draws circles of steam in the air as She tries to infuse the dried, blackened leaves in the boiling water. In the old days, She would often predict your future after one hard look at […]

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The tea leaves swirl in the old porcelain cup, Her wrinkled hand, darkened from long hours in the sun, energetically draws circles of steam in the air as She tries to infuse the dried, blackened leaves in the boiling water.

In the old days, She would often predict your future after one hard look at the remains once you’d had your cup.

But right now, I cannot think of futures. I am the leaves twirling inside the hot water. I am losing my essence, and all of me is becoming undone in the stifling heat, in the dizzying turns the cup takes and the growing tornado threatening to gulp me whole.

Storm in a teacup, Life in a nutshell.

I am being stirred, dissolved into something else. They hope to take the elixir that hides beneath the obsidian-clad body and then discard what is left of it.

Squeeze the soul out, throw the body away. It’s a consumerist society. Fast-food, fast-everything.

So now, She tosses the tea leaves in the bin even before the old, knowing eye can even take a look.