In a world where social networks are dense, where familiarity is currency and authority is everywhere, people are not really allowed to live without masks or without labels.

We are expected to have an identity that looks respectable, sounds presentable, and preferably, can be put to use by others. Otherwise, we are pushed to the margins, living like a nameless ant.

This isn’t an exaggeration. Look at the so-called third world. Look at the people crushed under institutional machinery.

At this point, intellectuals usually grow passionate. But I can’t help asking is there really such a thing as a non-hypocritical country?

Those places that look polished and enlightened, the United States, the EU, peel the onion layer by layer, and the inside isn’t that different.

The packaging is just better. The language is gentler. It makes you believe you chose freedom.

The real difference might simply be this: as long as we behave, don’t make noise, don’t disrupt the order, we’re allowed to live a quiet, seemingly decent life.

Then someone will step forward and say: “I don’t have much money, but I’m happy.”

I used to want to believe that. But later I began to wonder, is that truly having no desire, or simply NEVER HAVING HAD THE CHANCE?

How can we know we don’t want something we’ve never touched?

True detachment is having possessed, and then choosing to step away. Not convincing ourselves the grapes are sour because we couldn’t reach them.

In the end, how many people are truly not hypocritical? Perhaps the most we can do is admit this: I have been hypocritical.

And one day, we simply no longer want to perform. Not because we’re noble, but because we’re exhausted.

So we invite our hypocritical self back to the table. Pour a glass of wine. Sit down together.

We don’t forgive it. We don’t banish it. We just say: “I see myself.”



—— XC Scribbles · 柒拾 LXX ☥