Why I Refuse To Live By Proxy — Combating Sensationalism For My Corner Of The World

Pressures on how to think and live have been difficult to break from. But my life is not a sensation. I will find and experience for myself — for my future.

“Feel Interested About This”

Rough thoughts have permeated my mind. Through years of exposure to traditional and social media alike, I often developed harrowing perceptions of the world.

One year ago, I was too afraid to go outside anymore. I fixated on the dangers and risks, and the negative encounters my anxiety couldn’t handle. It took much convincing to venture out — but not alone.

Nowadays, those fears have receded. But dread has taken form in other areas. I’m constantly told of how horrible, how terrifying the world is, and how hopeless it is.

In past years, warmth radiated through my body when exposed to this information. It wasn’t a positive glow — it was red hot. Cheeks flushed, heart pounding. Anger, dread, and distrust coursed through every synapse of my mind. It was an urge to scream.

How could this be reality? Why were things like this? What the hell was wrong with everything?

The deluge of sensationalism continued, showing the worst of the worst. My mind was overloaded. ALL CAPS, YOU WON’T BELIEVE — OMG. Even from the traditional side, words like “slammed” or “tanks” caused my heart to sink.

I’ve experienced a lot of negative events in my life. I’ve lived terrified of everything. But I observe something strange when I truly think about them.

The worst feelings came from what I never experienced myself.

Living Live

It’s an election year, and naturally, I’ve encountered much information regarding that. I’m largely detached from the news cycle, so it hardly affects me negatively now. But before, I was full-on doomscrolling.

The first, and last time I recall watching a debate was in 2012, when it was an assignment in middle school. I distinctly remember taking each side into account equally in my notes. It felt civilized, though maybe I never noticed the background events.

The candidate I supported more didn’t even win,
but I came to like the other too.

I’ve heard and experienced how polarizing everything’s become in recent years. Crazy headlines bombarded me into a permanent state of “What the hell is going on? This is insanity.”

Because I had nothing better to do, I listened to a politician’s full speech live for the first time in 12 years. I’d been bombarded with crazy reads about their ideas and who they were — what their aims were (chaos and destruction, apparently).

But as I listened, I never felt the same dread I felt from the headlines.

They just came out with the mic — “…And we’re gonna win this state… and do this policy… and beat my opponent…—!” Their most combative statement was saying the other candidate wasn’t fit.

It was actually relaxing in a way, and I felt a bit of hope. I felt like I was in 2012 again. But from what I’d heard, I was expecting a nonstop barrage of dictator-level stuff.

SPEAKER: “Alright… next up we have… uh.. our next candidate- oh gee whiz my schedule’s all messed up… alright… the floor is yours.”

CANDIDATE: “I’M GOING TO [*INSERT HORRIFIC STUFF*] ALL OF YOU!!! MY OPPONENT WILL [*INSERT TERRIBLE FATE*] BY MY OWN HANDS!!! SCREW YOU AND SCREW ME! NEW WORLD ORDER! NEW WORLD ORDER! NEW WOR — ”

Similarly, the news interviewed this lady and asked who she was voting for. With a calm, sweet demeanor, she talked about — “oh, I think I like this candidate, they’re sometimes negative in this way, but I like them!”

The reporter thanked them with the same demeanor — “Thank you very much miss!” And that was that.

But again, from what I’d heard, I would’ve expected this situation to go like this.

REPORTER: “So who are you voting fo-?”

LADY: “I’M VOTING FOR [THIS GUY], [OTHER GUY] SUCKS!! [OTHER GUY’S] SUPPORTERS SUCK! YOU ALL SUCK!

REPORTER: “WHAT DID YOU SAY ABOUT [OTHER GUY] YOU LITTLE— [beeeeeeeep].“

(Image feed cuts off, aggressive yelling continues until audio stops as well.)

I’ve had lower-stakes differences between perception and experience too. Take, for instance, company support. I used to play online crane games and won a bunch of prizes.

However, in one of the shipments, one of the figures had a piece missing. The character’s headset in their outfit — just a 5-millimeter plastic square. It left a gaping hole in her head, but I could’ve just rotated it away from visibility.

Nevertheless, I tried to get a replacement. I searched online and read how horrible the company’s support was — how unresponsive and unaccommodating they were.

It sounded hopeless. I shouldn’t have bothered, given what I read. But I tried anyway. I sent their support a photo of the hole in the figure’s head, told them it was missing a piece, and asked politely if it was possible to get a replacement.

Hell, I could’ve been lying for all they knew. I could’ve just hidden the piece and said it was missing. Despite that, they responded within days, sent me another free of charge without questions, and I could keep the old one that was 98% complete — save for that tiny piece of plastic.

I sent the incomplete one to an online friend through USPS.
Contrary to what I read, I had a great experience with support.

When I sank into the post-graduation world, I doomscrolled a lot to figure out how to navigate it. And try to validate I wasn’t a worthless piece of crap.

It didn’t work.

Supposedly, college was a fantasy land where my knowledge was useless because it wasn’t “real.” Everything I had worked on in years prior wasn’t either, because it wasn’t paid, “real” experience.

In this “real” world, solving “real” problems, there was no more fun and games. It was supposed to be hard, not easy… like what I had lived, apparently. No struggles, no challenges, nothing...

I was inundated with claims of harsh “realities.” People only served to screw me over, I’m not allowed to enjoy anything, and I will come to hate everyone and everything around me.

It was that, or I’m just too comfortable to not have experienced any of this.

Because of this, I lived in fear and hopelessness. My future was destined for pain and suffering. I couldn’t trust anyone, that was a weakness. And so I remained in fight-or-flight mode, anticipating what abuse would come.

But now, I’ve been doing relevant work in my field. I’m not paid for it, but that doesn’t matter. I feel appreciated and gained valuable knowledge and experience.

The knowledge from my supposedly fake projects was the foundation of many decisions I made in “real-world” work. If anything, the “real” problems felt easier than the ones in school, because while they were higher stakes — I had more resources and help available.

The problems were practical, but less esoteric too. I wasn’t rebuilding or proving theories from scratch, but building upon existing knowledge and solutions — many I’d already used in school.

If anything, I’m just gluing stuff together to make something “new.”

They were ultimately human problems.
And as a human (?), I could grasp them, despite what I was made to believe.

My environment is not one of mistrust and one-upping, but of collaboration towards a common goal — contributing and doing good as equals, regardless of status or progress.

This was the reality I lived. Perhaps I got lucky — it may not be the ultimate truth. But neither were the theories I heard — only I can define what’s right for me.

When I was younger, less aware, more influenceable— I didn’t know this possibility of a brighter future. I was told to listen, to follow what was dictated as truths. This was the right way to think, to feel, to do.

Nothing else mattered because I was the inferior. If I challenged those notions, they were wrong and naive. Plain and simple.

In fairness, many of my ideas were wrong and naive — but only in hindsight and experience could this become apparent. Not all ideas were though, and I discovered the validity in notions I past thought I was a demon for thinking.

If they were wrong, they were still rooted in reason, not on a whim. Perhaps those reasons weren’t always the best — but there were reasons, nonetheless.

This is what happened when I lived my life by proxy.

I’ve realized most of my beliefs were ingrained from second-hand sources.

Second-hand sources, where information was delivered in selective snippets, clips, and highlights — provocation and direct linkage to one’s emotions and mind.

Like a generational algorithm for knowledge, except instead of picking the best to thrive and reproduce in the next iteration — it’s the most harrowing. Those spawned further mental desolation, and so on.

I suppressed my true beliefs, in favor of fear.

I was told what I was, so that’s what I was.
I was told what I felt, so that’s how I felt.

Everything I was told, I had to believe. Or I would face the repercussions of failure. I ping-ponged between the polar extremes, swayed by the smallest tidbits of information.

But forcing oneself to believe everything, led to believing nothing at all.

Inclement Feelings

My idea of adverts was always like this — some guy comes and shows this 3-in-1 utensil hybrid and hypes it all up like — “Wow this is unbelievable! You get this all for the low price of $9.99!”

But I’ve learned of an insidious tactic in marketing. It goes beyond creating a problem for the solution — but manipulating one to feel fundamentally broken as to need it.

Unfortunately, I realized this through reading on this very platform. While I’ve read moving personal pieces, many writings directly reached out to grab me — and tell me how incomplete I was.

It wasn’t enough to advertise the premise, I needed to read it. It wasn’t an invitation to explore possible techniques, no — you are undisciplined, lazy, and entitled.

And the solution was simple — listen to whatever it said.

Follow this advice or link, or buy this book. Hell, do anything to save your deficient life from sinking any further, as long as it involves liking and sharing this post.

I never really believed the tactics employed by this “outreach,” but it didn’t stop a negative emotional response from arising. It succeeded in reviving bad feelings and insecurities, inundating my mind.

Because contrary to the claims, I can’t just shut off my emotional response like a valve — and it’s not from weakness. I can’t spawn “productivity” and ideas immediately out of thin air, and that’s not from a lack of will either.

I have yet to resolve every problem in my life, but I’m discovering the methods and values that work for me. I evolve only through my experiences, not preassumed solutions to my life — as if I’m a problem to be solved.

I have reflected on and understood this, and seen progress despite everything I’ve done wrong. Because I’ve discovered what doesn’t work for me.

I now realize anything that causes that panic — that sense of dread — that “insanity” response, never serves to benefit me.

It’s only throws my mind into disarray— to think less and react more.

That’s not to say everything I hear, or react strongly to, is wrong. But nothing good comes from that state — not purposefully, at least. My benefit comes with a clear mind and genuine persuasion, not panic from perceived necessity.

I’ve discovered times when the claims came true in my reality. Job searching, for example. I read stories of ghosting and abysmal treatment, that I encountered too.

A prospective employer complained to me about their former employee, how they regretted hiring them, and how they ruined morale by “only doing their 8 hours and leaving.”

Keep in mind, this was our first meeting. I was virtually a stranger.

In this case, I did encounter the gossip that the stories portrayed. I experienced it for myself. It was also different than one envisioned.

I imagine an aggressive, constant rant about the target’s pitfalls and shortcomings when I hear a story like this. Like, “God, the last guy was such a lazy loser… wouldn’t work 16-hour days… this generation…”

It’s a default to the worst case conceivable.

My true experience was akin to hearing someone talk about their latte. Except replace the latte with a living person. It was a calmness — a sense of normalcy with a positive tone... while talking negatively about someone behind their back.

“Yeah… I totally like… regretted working with that guy. ⊂(•‿•)つ
He never put in effort, ruined the team! | (• ◡•)|”

The true experience hardly matches the harrowing scenarios sensationalism visualizes — if it ever does. Though, that by no means diminishes the issues.

The Chasm

Last August, I committed self-harm — technically speaking. What sensational image does that conjure?

For me, it’s a moment one snaps. In a single instant, the person goes berserk, yelling, screaming, and doing horrific acts to themselves with knives.

Preceding the act, this image recurrently appeared in my head. It felt like my emotional dam was about to burst, and when it did, I’d surely play out that scenario — furiously plunging that knife downstairs into myself multiple times.

For the first time in my life, I had to question whether I was capable of killing myself. I thought I wanted to in the past, but in hindsight, it was likely not my true desire — it was to stop feeling this way.

But now, I wasn’t sure — these emotions had a dangerously different energy.

Sounds pretty insane. Because it was.

Every day throughout the year was more hopeless. The stress, the anger, the futility. There was no way out of it. I only felt dread. Beaten down, pummeled into the ground, demeaned to all hell. Existence itself was painful, though I suppose that’s nothing new.

And so on that fateful day, I walked to my room after being reminded more about how worthless I was. I saw the nice-looking, sturdy door, and thought — “I’m gonna smash my head against it.”

So I went and did it. The door swung open, but it hardly hurt. And the urge to punch something hadn’t gone away.

I sat in my chair and noticed the metal armrests. Nice and solid, wouldn’t move to mitigate the force. So I positioned my skull over it and bashed it into the armrest twice.

The sharp headache crept in after a few minutes. Maybe I’d finally damaged myself. And maybe there was a tinge of regret. Would I even wake up tomorrow?

Through reflection, I’ve realized harm or death wasn’t my purpose here either — it was to make someone, anyone understand the pain I was going through — and make it stop. After all, what better way to convey the point than such an extreme act?

In previous writings, I’ve discussed associations with comfort. Discomfort is the outer wild — the danger zone, while comfort is safety.

I realized that’s not necessarily the case — my comfort zone can harbor my most perilous dangers. When I strongly percussed my head, I did it with the normalcy one expects from everyday action. Not a moment where one snaps and goes berserk, with a loss of control and agency.

I was comfortable with it, yet it was the most dangerous act I’ve ever done.

The connection to this writing’s theme should be clear. There was no inciting incident. Every day I spent in agony I was inched closer to a desolate reality.

Until one day, this was the new normal. One where I could harm myself without a care.

Sensationalism is available and accessible 24/7. The worst of the worst, the craziest of the craziest — the most proactive headlines and thumbnails possible. It’s what I’ve become hyper-aware of — what I’ve come to fear.

I’ve realized these provocative notions aren’t necessarily what I must watch for. Apart from inflated risk and misinformation, they quickly call attention to themselves. They’re hard to miss — and can be addressed quickly.

I’ve always feared horrific outcomes, but they never happened. Maybe the risks of extinction by a meteorite isn’t the central problem, but the ecosystem’s gradual decline to where a 114-degree day is not just possible — but normal.

Perhaps a sudden societal collapse isn’t the likely threat, but a world where we continue to distrust and isolate — growing further each day.

Bit by bit, these processes remain unchecked invisibly, until a new reality is born.

It’s a reality where mutual respect and professionalism go by the wayside, where talking behind one’s back is commonplace. It’s a reality where trust and authenticity are sacrificed for likes and clicks — indifferent to the damage done.

It felt normal when I was coerced by my environment, suppressing my thoughts through notions of “right” and “wrong.” Only through reflection, did I realize my beliefs had reason after all. Many of my experiences felt normal — but were quite deleterious in hindsight.

The seeds grew into a reality where hope and optimism easily ran dry. It was a point where death often felt like a better option — the most logical solution.

That’s a circumstance that didn’t become apparent until it already arrived.

Natural Emotion

Reality hardly manifested as envisioned through my proxy experiences. As aforementioned, the feelings spawned by these visions often weren’t as bad in the real situation.

However, I’ve witnessed significant, tragic events firsthand. They certainly weren’t “not as bad” — they were vividly melancholic situations with desolate outlooks.

But it still felt different.
It’s hard to describe in words, but I can try.

In college, one of my professors mentioned he tried Frosted Flakes, and thought it was like cardboard. I loved the cereal as a kid, so I didn’t know what he was talking about.

But when I tried eating it again, I realized — “Man, this does feel like eating sugary cardboard. How did I ever like this before?”

I’m now cognizant of this artificial aftertaste and texture in processed foods. There’s always a roughness on the roof of my mouth as if a layer of chemicals was deposited there.

When I baked cookies myself, the difference was astonishing. They were softer and richer —no lingering nastiness to the taste remained. It tasted… clean.

The emotions I experienced were similar. The fear crushed my soul and constricted my heart when the headlines struck me with it. It was artificially manufactured dread.

In moments of tragedy, I felt I was falling. An endless void filled my existence. I could only lie down and stare mindlessly in front of me. I felt so weak I could collapse.

Yet these emotions weren’t caged — they were free. They didn’t feel corrupt or tainted with nastiness, but experienced with a clean purity. It was terrible but cathartic.

As harrowing as these feelings were, they felt… organic.

These feelings were objectively worse. But I moved past them — not discarding them, but moving to the future. They’re my own — discovered on my path, and influenced by no one else.

Evolving Firsthand

The world can feel crazy. Youthful innocence has passed for me, leaving cruel reality in its stead. There’s so much to know, yet the end of the search never arrives.

While I’ve learned most provocative ideas aren’t as bad as portrayed, some are. Then there are the dangers that slowly slide us into a desolate landscape without us realizing — before it’s too late.

How can one even begin to pick apart the truth amongst lies in the Disinformation Age?

I haven’t got a clue. But there’s a place I can start —with myself.

I can’t change the world. I always wanted to and was told to. By proxy, I was told everything I believed. A claim Gen Z was unprofessional and lazy, for example. They didn’t know how to email, or what a analog clock was. The group I was in was labeled, therefore I just was.

I thought I knew my experiences, but they said I’m like this. It made me feel irrationally…bad.

An article said, “You are incomplete, this is not right. This is something to be angry about,” so I felt compelled to feel that way. I guess I do feel that way, I thought. I guess I am that way.

How did I dare to be complacent with the issues of the world? I was doing nothing of benefit. I was lazy, inactive, and never would contribute anything. It claimed this world was hopeless, and I had no desire to stop it.

The doomscrolling went on.

That’s not what I am. My life is not a sensation — nor is it spoken into reality.

My identity and motivations aren’t defined secondhand — I know what they are. I’m not deliberately malicious or complacent. Nor do stereotypes and assumptions define me or my knowledge so far.

I do want to make something of my life. I do want to contribute and do good. And I will find the good in this world — but through my own eyes. It does exist, but I don’t ignore the problems either.

Nothing can tell me otherwise — this is my firsthand account.

Whether reality is one way or another, I can’t know. But I know what my reality is. My truth is not the ultimate truth, but it has merit in the whole as a member of this world.

To solve myself is to work on the situations I find myself in — ones I know are rooted in reason, and I’m not alone in experiencing. I can’t act on what I’m incapable of. To solve my problems, I must define them. And to find their domain, I must explore for myself.

Perhaps prioritizing myself over the world is selfish. Maybe it really is screwed and I’m doing nothing to stop it —that I had the power to do so. But I can’t say without knowledge. I can’t act when I’m incapacitated from hopelessness, let alone if I kill myself.

And quite frankly, I don’t think the sensations would care if I did. Just another statistic in the narrative. Onto the next one.

I can’t act without finding my truth.

I’ve taken a strong, direct tone with what I’ve written here today. But this isn’t a battle — it’s moving forward and finding peace within. It isn’t the last stop, but one of many.

I’ve past discovered the selfless results selfishness can achieve. It sounds stupidly self-righteous (inspiration…just love inspiring people man~), but I suppose I help others by doing the best for myself.

By refusing to live by proxy, I will discover, to genuinely know and believe — and cultivate that corner of the world I lack for myself. I will act and live by me. And hopefully, that does more beyond me too.

That is my gateway to building a better future.