HALL OF MIRRORS

I was reflecting on society reflecting on itself, so many people obsessed with fading away in size, downsizing. GLP-1 is the new substitute for discipline and not giving a fuck.
The shrinking of size appears to be correspondent with a shrinking of the mind and of the soul. Agonists...antagonists...agony...parody...irony…

An obsession with eternal youth, as if aging is not an inevitability, a possible growth in soul and mind, a passage INTO, rather than an exit FROM.

While the self-obsessed render themselves almost invisible through shrinkage...Honey I Shrunk The Kids And The Parents...the world burns before their eyes...globalism tightening the belt of freedom....working towards a six-inch waist...whilst placing their waste in the designated recycling bin.

Trying to escape from the burden of their own self-image. They have been sold the idea of their natural ugliness...the illusion that they must be thin to win...it’s all bought and paid for....in instalments...stalling the passage of time.
Pull, Tuck, Nip, Snip, Inject, Fill, Enlarge, Shrink, Enhance...dance the dance of eternal obsessive clinging on... to.... to what exactly?

Shame on you if you dare to age...what was once regarded as a cycle of life, a possible gathering of knowledge and inner reflection, has been replaced with a total obsession with the shell. The limits of the outer limits, limitations of the psyche...Snip, Snip, Snap.
All this injectable loss of self with zero care for the self.
Flash, Flash, Post online to show how much you care... for yourself....in the hope that others might care for your...self.

Everything is fading away as self-loathing mutates into self-obsession, the vulnerable followers of influencers...are influenced...sold a substitute for the development of body, and soul, like methadone to a heroin addict...the palliative society of consumerism...literally consuming itself via a calorie deficit.

How many dumb fuck dullards do I need to see working out online...working out their own desperate loneliness by posting themselves semi-naked in a gym, on a beach, in an empty space showing me their six-pack surrogate for real life communication...pouting for my attention...vacuous smiles that scream of emptiness...inflating their arses...caricatures with no possibility of sitting down comfortably and contemplating life...Vita Contemplativa.

Hyaluronic acid fillers... acid without the trip....tripping over their own Disneyfication...a Disney arse!

The incessant documentation of fuck all... of empty life addictions to being liked... but not likeable... not able to like themselves. LIKE a ship without a sail, LIKE a mask without a face behind it. LIKE a lost soul minus the soul...because it's been eaten by its owners sole focus of consuming the self in favour of calories.

Plump up those lips to a size where you can lay your head upon them and self-soothe...
as they deflate in your sleep... the inner tubes of a deflated tyre... tyre-ing and withering into parody.

’He fell in love with the image of himself
suddenly the picture was distorted,
He made up the person he wanted to be,
and changed into a new personality’

Mirror Mirror on the wall, why do they see fuck all... worthy of preserving...