On Illusions

I open an app on my device and dive into an illusionary world. It’s a world of achievers, beauty pageants, and know-it-all influencers.

What do I, indistinguishable and insignificant from the masses, forget here? I have nothing to offer. I have nothing to say. So what am I doing here?

Perhaps I’m seeking something to fill an emptiness inside, and this online world is so appealing with its aura of chic, fun, and lightness. I sink in and stay in it for hours. So what if I have nothing to add? This world would only be relieved if I kept quiet. I am here to consume, not to create.

I feel like a smudgy guest who shows up uninvited to a party. I prefer not to draw much attention to my persona. The last thing I need is someone to look at me and point out that I am an outsider in this glorious clique.

I stand in the back. And if I dare to come closer, it would only be to play along.

“You’re absolutely right!” “You’re such an inspiration to me!” “Also, I absolutely love that sweatshirt on you. The color looks so good!”

That’s how I create the illusion that I belong to this world, that I am accepted. But that only happens because I accepted first.

However, there is always an exception that becomes a rule in itself. Not everyone is a yes-man. Some philistines go down a different road because they themselves want to be in the spotlight. They don’t need everyone’s approval, only that of a few. So as not to be overshadowed by boilerplate phrases, they play the rebel card and blurt out something outrageous and diametrically opposed to the general mood.

I’m not one of these rioters. But it fascinates me how easily they get their moment of glory, their scrap of space in such a vast, intimidating universe. It makes me wonder if I chose the right tactic. Clearly, impertinence attracts more attention than compliance, but am I ready to dare? I don’t think so.

In spite of its scale, with thousands of creators and millions of consumers, this world is illusory and fragile. It is a patchwork. It took the most remarkable snippets of everyday life and woven them into its web of colors and emotions. Its beauty, cheerfulness, and lightness are the result of distilling reality.

I can’t deny the fact that I’m drawn to this world because of how illusory it is. Who cares that it’s built with Photoshop and biased algorithms? It’s a free amusement park where you can plunge into any time when the prosiness gets boring. Who wouldn’t like it?

Yes, this world is fragile. Take away its ability to perform plastic surgeries on uploaded content and its appeal and magnetism would dissipate. But no one thinks of giving up the possibilities of embellishment and exaggeration. If they say they do, then their actions don’t match their intentions.

When I started supplying a portion of myself online, I promised myself that I would go against the flow and upload only raw data. I promised myself I’d be as authentic as possible on the Internet. But I let myself down, and everyone who joined my party.

Takes the fourth attempt, adjusted teeth and lightened whites of the eyes, gluing together unglued shots… My rawness, that I seemed to know and accept, frightened me. She had no place in this world of illusions. Too much of an unpleasant contrast. She must be touched up, or she won’t survive here. I, raw, won’t survive here.

It used to amaze me how smooth and pretty everything online was, but now I’m convinced: it wouldn’t work any other way. We are attracted to beauty, not ugliness. We surround ourselves with what we relish.

Imagine being given an easy-to-use tool to create a better version of yourself, a version you aspire to. Forgive my skepticism, but I don’t believe you wouldn’t use it.

The other day I bought an app that makes modifying reality frighteningly easy. With the flick of a finger, I can now remove skin imperfections, unwanted objects, unwanted people… The possibilities are scary. And the price tag is only $2.99. I haven’t used the app yet, but I can’t promise that I can ignore it for long. The temptation is too great.

The dreams become reality. You don’t have to go to the gym regularly anymore.
Just swipe your finger and voila! Your belly is gone! Or consider this. You no longer have to invest hours in learning sophisticated software. It’s the same uncomplicated finger movement, and now you are an artist, a creator of something bigger than you are.

Any whim for your data.

I am trying to find my place in this world of illusions. It seems to me that if I want to fit in, if I want to be accepted, I need to be neater, nicer, and smarter than I really am. I need to be a better version of myself.

And what’s truly scary? It’s easily achievable. Thanks to Photoshop, Google, and our other free, ubiquitous friends.

It became too easy to sugarcoat reality and hard to tell what’s real and what’s not. Does she really have such long eyelashes? Does he really understand quantum physics? Did they sign a $100K deal the day they published a story about it? Or did it happen last week, or last month? Or did it never happen at all?

It scares me to realize that I’m growing less likely to question what is real and what is fake. I am aware of the widespread distortion of reality, and yet the skeptic in me slumbers.

In fact, many useful human abilities, such as critical thinking, logic, and skepticism, don’t penetrate into the virtual world. Illusions don’t need sanity. They want naivety and malleability (which modern man supplies in abundance.)

Most of all, illusions need ego. The online world thrives on our egos.

We’re willing to do too much for likes and shares. At the very least, we put a smiley face where we’d like to leave an angry emoji. At the most, we betray our principles. Or climb to the edge of the mountain for those selfies. It’s disgusting.

Tireless illusion makers, we compromise reality for fantasy because the latter flatters our ego. To make stories more engaging, we often twist and exaggerate them. To make ourselves prettier, we take tons of photos, select the finest, and then photoshop them. To become famous (or, put another way, go viral), we buy a lobster as a pet or spend a year renovating a video game world.

With fakeness, we create our new reality. And we can’t help it. The ego-fueled attention-seeking locomotive is running full blast and is unlikely to be stopped. Like a virus.

That’s why I know I should not trust you. And I don’t.

I don’t trust your happy photos and mellifluous captions. They are fragments of the bigger picture.
I don’t trust your opinions. They are embedded in your weak mind without any analysis on your part.
I don’t trust your words. You rewrote them too many times.

And you shouldn’t trust me.
I am not raw here. I can’t be.

This world doesn’t welcome raw, unfiltered, uncensored versions of us. Even worse, we don’t welcome ourselves raw and unfiltered here. We cherish the idea that we know who we are, what we value, and what we stand for. Oh well, the joke’s on us.

I don’t blame you, or myself, for distorting reality. I don’t blame us for creating illusions. That’s just the way things are nowadays.

But we seem to forget that with great power comes great responsibility. I wish we held ourselves more accountable for what we are doing. Our pretense manipulates; not only us but others.

I wish we stood down, stopped abusing deceptive tools, and didn’t go overboard with verbiage. But do we dare?

If you had any illusions about the illusionary world you are in, maybe it’s time to let them go?