a Shattered Visage Lies
TL;DR: Burn your heroes.
Late night ramblings are probably best left for a more private platform, but this is a part of me. So for the time being, whatever tangential thoughts still simmer in my mind will probably find themselves tosses down to these empty white fields of dull-grey backgrounds and a font that makes me think Sans Serif but is probably something markedly less interesting.
This is something I’ve been considering for a while now — heroes. Or not heroes, but role models, I suppose. The necessity of them and their prevalence as I see it.
In my first year of university, I found that I was strangely drawn to the idea of dudes who seemed like they had it all figured out. You know, your fair share of Jordan Peterson’s and the like. I wouldn’t say that I saw them as role models to the extent that others I’ve seen often do, who idolize and place angelic halos around Twitter feeds as if every raw pound of sewage that comes out is somehow equivalent to silver (or perhaps more accurately, pyrite)
I think where I can give my old self credit is that I didn’t go as far as others I’ve known. Did I get into that crap for a while? Yeah. A mix of self-loathing for being so socially fucked, distaste for what I felt was an ability to maintain self-discipline, and a juxtaposition of believing I was both smarter and dumber than my peers led to easy pickings for those that tell you they know your pain and have solutions that can make you feel right as rain. Clean your room, wash your floor, flip your shit. Nobody really assumes that you have these issues because you don’t really talk about them to others, I suppose, and I’ve been an especially private person until essentially the last ~2 years (after growing out of old habits and having a girlfriend that has helped immensely to make me feel comfortable sharing my thoughts.)
But yeah, I did. And the automatic response I had, and others like me still have today, is to turn to those we see as having at least some answers.
I don’t have a thesis for this, by the way. When after midnight we write our theses, they generally end up smelling like our f - I’m not gonna finish that rhyme. Anyway.
Heroes. Role models.
The trouble is that these days, the internet sphere is an ever-expanding ecosystem that somehow feels bigger and smaller at the same time. The reason why is because over the years, the environment has become localized to specific ‘habitats‘ rather than being the wild west that it was before. Where you’d run through various random websites, some structured well like cities and others reeking of rank madness like abandoned ghost towns filled with the spirits of the vengeful dead, nowadays it is all concrete and metal. Social media has pushed the internet into bigger forums, but there’s less of them. You know — everyone is on Facebook or Instagram or LinkedIn or some combination of the variants.
Anyway, off topic again. Writing short stories is a bit easier because at very least, you’re writing people with our perception of lives living in a structured manner. The problem with real life, with ramblings like these, is no ending is ever going to be satisfactory enough.
So the problem: It’s easier than ever to encounter these Heroes — that is to stay, bigger-than-life personas whose presence is more an idea than it is a physical slab of meat and bones — who preach their gospel out into the void.
Liars, basically.
Kidding. I doubt they’re all lying, but the vast majority are at the very least embellishing the truth. No one with something to lose goes out and airs their dirty laundry unless they’ve built their brand on it. And everyone that claims a moral high ground and some level of deific piety is almost certainly a greater sinner than you or I. I don’t pretend I’m some saint, but I like to imagine I get by in a decent manner. I don’t wave my overwhelming empathy around like a flag to tell the world ‘Look at me! I helped someone! Don’t I deserve praise? Why did I do it if not the praise? If I gave an old leather jacket to a homeless man and no one was around to film it, was the jacket ever mine in the first place? Did it cost $5 or $500? Does it matter?’
It’s two things, actually. That’s one. The other is an overwhelming sense of confidence. Maybe, I don’t know.
Nah, it is. The problem has become that so many icons on the internet can state their opinion with an air of total assurance on topics they’re often not even remotely qualified to speak of in any reasonable depth, and they will then simply block out or remove any legitimate criticisms of their work by sweeping away the larger forum to leave only the smaller sandbox in which they are seen as small gods. They have their small, radical audience that does their dirty work for them, singing their praises and embellishing their achievements. Cruel leprechauns who feed on your self-hatreds and promise riches in exchange for blind faith. Fool’s gold indeed.
I’ve wondered how some of the most heinous internet stars still persist after so many problems and controversial incidents. How so-called influencers who spew what I can only term as monumentally stupid husks of motivational garbage stay afloat and succeed in spite of the sheer irrelevance of their societal contributions. So often do you think about various personas of the past and think ‘ha, good thing that asshole isn’t around anymore’ before remembering so many that managed to wait out their inquisition and survive unscathed. And honestly, the answer?
I don’t know. I don’t have their confidence. If I did, there might be a thesis here, but I do not, so there isn’t.
And then I kick myself in the back. Because I believed some of it too. Nothing too crazy, and I was never anyone’s fanatic, but I was certainly a fan. I had my phases, as did we all. And I hate that I was there to begin with.
No one is perfect. No one worth listening to and learning from is without colossal sums of self-doubt, quiet fears in the late hours of the night, and the constant hum of pressure from their surroundings threatening to cave them in. Those that live large and speak of topics beyond the scope of their experiences? Those that act like they got it all figured out, tucked away neatly, locked up under a heavy iron key? I don’t think they have value. I don’t think any one of them is worth putting so much of your energy into that it hurts. None of them are genuine, and even if they are, you shouldn’t put all your eggs into one basket.
Have 5 heroes, have 10 or 15. Fill your heart with heroes, but be ready to toss them into the firepit as soon as you see them beginning to rot. No single person is holy. There is nothing at all divine in the advice given to you by other human beings. Take what you can, respect and honor their philosophy, but if you find that they have lied to you and acted falsely, then tear their words from your heart and reexamine their teachings closely before taking them back. There is little need for sick flesh in our bodies.
So do I have a thesis? Kind of. I just want people to think about those they respect. Don’t reinvent yourself every time a new north star pops up in your life. Be yourself, take what you can, give back to the world at large, and stop trying to walk along those paths so well trod out that the stones have become grey with wear.
Forge your own path. Burn the way. Dream grandly, and only with conviction.
And stop giving your time and energy to people that don’t fucking deserve it.