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We are all just so fucking tired and I'm tired of it
2 weeks ago
General
Society feels like it’s running on 3 percent battery and the charger is on the other side of a locked door guarded by a demon with a clipboard. Everywhere you look, people are dragging themselves through the day like they’ve been living inside a slow-motion disaster movie for years, and honestly? They have. We all have. You can practically hear the collective groan of an entire population that hasn’t had a proper rest since before the world went weird. I open my eyes and the first thought isn’t even a thought, it’s just this limp little Windows XP shutdown noise, like doooooooonk. And then I just lie there, staring into the void, waiting for my consciousness to buffer like my entire head is a mid-2000s YouTube video trying to load over dial-up. And then I crawl onto the internet, thinking “Surely everyone else has their shit together,” and guess what? NOPE. Every single person I know is also staggering around like they haven’t slept since 2019. Everyone is fried. Everyone is hollow. Everyone is held together by caffeine, vibes, and some kind of increasingly unhinged spite that’s running out of batteries. We’re all walking around like NPCs whose idle animations are glitching.
And the wild part is we’re still expected to function like the world isn’t on Hard Mode with Friendly Fire enabled. You walk into a shop and the cashier’s eyes have that dim little flicker of someone who hasn’t felt a genuine spark of energy since the Obama administration. You sit on a bus and the passengers look like cryptids caught in daylight. That it’s perfectly reasonable for an entire civilisation to be burnt to a crisp emotionally, mentally, physically, spiritually, cosmically. Like we all stepped into a massive global fatigue pit and instead of climbing out we just set up little flatscreens and folding chairs and said “yeah this is fine I guess.” Every workplace, every community, every institution is staffed by people who look like they’ve been emotionally tasered.
And no one has the bandwidth for anything. You try to organise something and half the group disappears into the wind like exhausted tumbleweeds. People don’t cancel plans, they just evaporate. Whole friend groups are communicating exclusively in sighs now. Parents look like they’re one PTA meeting away from ascending to a higher plane out of sheer sleep deprivation. Students are doing assignments with the dead-eyed intensity of someone performing emergency surgery while also flatlining. Meanwhile the elderly are like “how can you all be so exhausted?” and everyone under 50 is like “Maureen, the world has been on fire for a decade.”
And the economy? Oh my god. Entire industries are wobbling on their little stilts because society collectively lost the plot. Customer service workers operate at the same energy level as NPCs who’ve had their AI switched to “minimal.” Managers are burnt out. Teachers are burnt out. Healthcare staff are burnt out. Artists are burnt out. Teenagers are burnt out. Toddlers are probably burnt out. Dogs might be burnt out at this point. We’re a species that has emotionally sprinted headfirst into a brick wall and now we’re all lying on the ground like “ugh why does my face hurt.”
And the worst part is the pretending. The big collective “we’re fine :)” performance that’s so brittle it might snap if you breathe on it. Society is exhausted, and everyone knows it, but there’s no off-ramp. There is no end to it. There’s no magical reset, no fairy godmother who’s going to wand-wave everyone back into functioning humans. It’s just… this. Forever, apparently. A whole civilisation doing its best impression of a dying Tamagotchi. We keep hoping the next nap or the next weekend or the next holiday will fix it, but no. The exhaustion sits there, like a smug little gremlin, picking its teeth with your remaining energy.
I keep waiting for someone to admit it out loud: that things broke somewhere along the way. That our brains and bodies weren’t meant to run in this perpetual disaster mode. That everything is too much and too loud and too endless. But instead we all just keep limping along, clutching our coffees like emotional support potions, pretending we’re fine while our eyebags develop their own lore. There’s no crescendo to this. No hopeful twist. Just a civilisation yawning its way through the apocalypse, held together with caffeine, denial, and that weird resignation that hits when you’re too tired to fight anything anymore.
That’s it. That’s the mood. A planet full of people who need a nap and are never going to get one.
And the wild part is we’re still expected to function like the world isn’t on Hard Mode with Friendly Fire enabled. You walk into a shop and the cashier’s eyes have that dim little flicker of someone who hasn’t felt a genuine spark of energy since the Obama administration. You sit on a bus and the passengers look like cryptids caught in daylight. That it’s perfectly reasonable for an entire civilisation to be burnt to a crisp emotionally, mentally, physically, spiritually, cosmically. Like we all stepped into a massive global fatigue pit and instead of climbing out we just set up little flatscreens and folding chairs and said “yeah this is fine I guess.” Every workplace, every community, every institution is staffed by people who look like they’ve been emotionally tasered.
And no one has the bandwidth for anything. You try to organise something and half the group disappears into the wind like exhausted tumbleweeds. People don’t cancel plans, they just evaporate. Whole friend groups are communicating exclusively in sighs now. Parents look like they’re one PTA meeting away from ascending to a higher plane out of sheer sleep deprivation. Students are doing assignments with the dead-eyed intensity of someone performing emergency surgery while also flatlining. Meanwhile the elderly are like “how can you all be so exhausted?” and everyone under 50 is like “Maureen, the world has been on fire for a decade.”
And the economy? Oh my god. Entire industries are wobbling on their little stilts because society collectively lost the plot. Customer service workers operate at the same energy level as NPCs who’ve had their AI switched to “minimal.” Managers are burnt out. Teachers are burnt out. Healthcare staff are burnt out. Artists are burnt out. Teenagers are burnt out. Toddlers are probably burnt out. Dogs might be burnt out at this point. We’re a species that has emotionally sprinted headfirst into a brick wall and now we’re all lying on the ground like “ugh why does my face hurt.”
And the worst part is the pretending. The big collective “we’re fine :)” performance that’s so brittle it might snap if you breathe on it. Society is exhausted, and everyone knows it, but there’s no off-ramp. There is no end to it. There’s no magical reset, no fairy godmother who’s going to wand-wave everyone back into functioning humans. It’s just… this. Forever, apparently. A whole civilisation doing its best impression of a dying Tamagotchi. We keep hoping the next nap or the next weekend or the next holiday will fix it, but no. The exhaustion sits there, like a smug little gremlin, picking its teeth with your remaining energy.
I keep waiting for someone to admit it out loud: that things broke somewhere along the way. That our brains and bodies weren’t meant to run in this perpetual disaster mode. That everything is too much and too loud and too endless. But instead we all just keep limping along, clutching our coffees like emotional support potions, pretending we’re fine while our eyebags develop their own lore. There’s no crescendo to this. No hopeful twist. Just a civilisation yawning its way through the apocalypse, held together with caffeine, denial, and that weird resignation that hits when you’re too tired to fight anything anymore.
That’s it. That’s the mood. A planet full of people who need a nap and are never going to get one.
All this exhaustion, grief, pain, suffering, and emotional dampening like everything is banal and joyless.
Is done by people who never have to worry or truly work. Nepo babies and ancient wealthy family lineages who hoard influence and shares and money, because for some reason the marginal profit acquired from working every single "essential" worker into an early grave. Despite the fact they would do better treating people like people.