(choir sample warped slow) Yeah… Mos Jeph. (“lost…”) (“who are you really?”) Everybody custom-buildin personalities outta algorithms now. ⸻ I seen people change accents every time the room switch Whole life curated like a storefront mood kit Avatar confidence bank account panic Self-worth measured by applause from strangers and analytics (“goddamn…”) Whole culture cosplayin confidence professionally Smilin for the camera while spiritually hemorrhaging Corporate-approved rebellion sold next to luxury sedatives Counterculture sponsored by the same damn executives Slow down. Look around. Everybody yellin “be yourself” while handcraftin copies. I watched a grown man delete opinions for engagement Another woman lose herself inside aesthetic maintenance People scared of silence ‘cause identity start talkin The mask get nervous every time the soul start walkin (“talk to ‘em…”) See— real manipulation never feel like chains initially It feel convenient comfortable socially incentivized digitally You ain’t forced to kneel you just rewarded for conformity Then one day you wake up and don’t remember your original energy ⸻ I got friends that became what the feed said Dead-eyed scrollin in bed till they brain red Everybody trend-hop synchronized Skin deep spiritual enterprise Quick dopamine franchised Whole damn world merchandised TikTok prophets podcast gods manufactured outrage monetized People weaponizin therapy language while emotionally vandalized “Protect my peace” turned into “never question me” Now accountability feel like psychological assault mentally (“whoooo!”) Fast food spirituality tarot card capitalism Pseudo-deep captions over sadness and narcissism Everybody wanna “heal” nobody wanna sacrifice Everybody want wisdom nobody wanna pay the price So they buy identities wholesale Rage package victim package alpha package soft male Political jerseys for the lost and emotionally frail People terrified to think without a tribe-shaped handrail ⸻ (beat drops out) I ain’t above it either. That’s the terrifying part. Sometimes I catch myself shapeshiftin for acceptance too. Voice change. Posture change. Humor change. Energy dilution. Like damn… How much of me survived adaptation? (“mmm…”) That question hit harder than heartbreak honestly. ⸻ Cult of lost identity… Everybody worship mirrors till the soul turn into static quietly… People trade integrity for visibility… Then wonder why success feel hollow physically… I seen rich people spiritually collapsing Influencers with million-view smiles privately unraveling Whole room famous nobody known deeply Everybody connected nobody held completely (“facts…”) And the scariest prison? The one where the inmates defend the walls proudly. See the cult don’t need uniforms just insecurity Don’t need dictators just endless consumerism purity tests and community theater disguised as certainty (“yeah…”) I had to unplug long enough to hear my own thoughts breathe again Read old notebooks walk alone let the grief speak again Stopped askin crowds who I should become eventually Found more truth in quiet than performative authenticity ⸻ So if you still got pieces of yourself untouched— protect ‘em. Protect the weird laugh. Protect the ugly drafts. Protect the opinions that don’t optimize. Protect the books that changed you. Protect the part of you that existed before the market found your insecurities. (“talk to ‘em…”) ‘Cause the cult got plenty members already. What the world lack… is people brave enough to remain recognizable to themselves.
