The world feels different now—stranger, faster, and somehow less human. As an ’80s baby, I remember a time when life moved slower, conversations carried weight, and connections felt real. But somewhere between the rise of technology and the aftermath of COVID, something shifted. And I can’t help but ask—are we losing what makes us truly human?
Adapting to a World That Feels Less Human
The world feels different now—almost unrecognizable.
As an ’80s baby, I remember a time when life felt slower,
when conversations carried weight,
and connections were built on presence, not pixels.
But somewhere along the way,
something shifted.
Relationships don’t feel the same anymore.
What used to be about trust, laughter,
and shared experiences
has been reduced to quick texts,
filtered moments,
and a highlight reel of curated lives.
The values we once held sacred—
loyalty, honesty, depth—
now feel like echoes from a fading past.
And then there’s technology—
AI rising like a silent tide.
It didn’t just come to help us;
it came to replace so much of what we once called human.
Skills honed over years,
talents passed down through generations,
are now measured by algorithms, likes, and trends.
Not by trust. Not by word of mouth.
But by who looks best on a glowing screen.
Crime, once a shock to the system,
has become another headline we scroll past,
another tragedy we’ve grown numb to—
unless it knocks on our own door.
Genuine care feels rare,
and authenticity…
a fading art form.
Sometimes I wonder—
am I the only one who feels it?
The unease?
The quiet question whispering at the edges of my mind:
What happened to us?
Is it just a coincidence
that right after COVID locked us indoors,
forcing us to live through screens,
AI surged into the spotlight?
Or was it the plan all along—
to make us forget what real feels like?
Now, trust has become a fragile thing.
We question everything—
what’s true, what’s false,
what’s genuine, what’s a simulation.
We crave connection,
but we scroll for it instead of feeling it.
We crave meaning,
but we measure it in clicks.
Maybe that’s why this moment feels so heavy—
because deep down,
we know something’s slipping away.
Something human.
Something real.
And maybe,
just maybe,
it’s time to ask ourselves:
How much of this are we willing to accept?
And how much are we willing to fight for…
before everything that made us human
becomes nothing more than a memory?
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