The Normality of Insanity

It got hotter. We got quieter.

If you’re exposed to madness long enough, it stops feeling like madness.
It just feels like… Thursday.

You don’t question it anymore.
You adapt.
You medicate.
Drink coffeee.
You normalize the absurd.

At work:
You chase KPIs that don’t matter.
You build decks no one reads.
You talk about alignment while drowning in dissonance.
Everyone smiles. No one sleeps.

In society:
People livestream breakdowns and call it vulnerability.
We celebrate overwork, ghost each other in silence, and call it boundaries.
We microdose to survive capitalism — and label it wellness.

In politics:
A reality show host became president.
A war criminal got applauded on live television.
Tariff wars. Currency games.
Nationalism sold in TikTok soundbites.
We used to debate ideas. Now we meme collapse.

In relationships:
We call emotional blackmail “passion.”
We excuse silence as healing.
We normalize collapse, then romanticize survival.
We say, “It’s just how we are.”
But it’s not.
It’s just what we’ve gotten used to.

In tech:
We talk to AI more honestly than to our partners.
We journal into bots and call it healing.
We write love letters into the void — and feel heard.

And somewhere in all this…
we stopped noticing the hum.

This isn’t the boiling point.
It’s the slow simmer the frog did not notice.
The heat rose one degree at a time.
And we didn’t jump.

We’ve rebranded dysfunction as “resilience.”
We’ve repackaged numbness as “balance.”
We’ve mistaken detachment for peace.

And when someone says,
“This isn’t normal,”
we call them too intense. Too emotional. Too much.

If this feels normal to you,
that’s the problem.

Maybe the bravest thing you can do today
is notice it.

Say: This isn’t normal.

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