A large portion of the population is in a state of collective psychosis—and no one wants to say it plainly.
Millions of people have collapsed into a fever dream stitched together by gut instinct, grievance, and a kind of folkloric paranoia that feeds off itself like a snake eating its tail.
What we’re seeing isn’t just a cultural shift—it’s a full-blown epistemic breakdown. They don’t believe in truth anymore. They believe in their truth, and that distinction is the wound from which everything else festers.
Irony breathes heavy here. These are the same voices that cry out against “postmodernism,” shouting about “cultural Marxists” and imagined academic boogeymen hiding in the ivy halls.
But now? They’ve become the most radical relativists of all. Everything is vibes. Everything is “what feels right.” Data is suspect. Experts are liars. The scientific method is a scam. Institutions are compromised. The only thing sacred is instinct, and if you dare challenge the divinity of that gut feeling, you’re not just wrong—you’re the enemy. The betrayal is theological.
They’ve constructed a world where thinking is betrayal, questioning is sedition, and skepticism is heresy. The only virtue left is certainty—blind, unearned, unwavering certainty.
Opinions are no longer hypotheses but declarations of holy war. The anecdote is now superior to the study. One’s personal experience trumps a mountain of data.
The world must be remade in the image of what they feel in their bones, even if it requires burning everything down to do it. And they are proud of this. They confuse ignorance with courage. Belligerence with strength. Certainty with righteousness.
There is something cultic in the air—messianic even. They are some sort righteous horde. They march under a banner not as citizens of a republic but as Knights of a kingdom that exists only in their minds.
Reality bends to belief, and belief has no anchor anymore. They are no longer governed by logic or evidence, but by a deeply spiritual conviction that they are always under siege, always justified, always right. It’s the ultimate victim complex masquerading as strength.
Their epistemology is inverted. They begin with the conclusion—emotional, tribal, usually reactionary—and reverse-engineer any justification necessary to protect it. If new information contradicts it, then the information must be false. If a contradiction arises, it simply doesn’t matter.
They carry the cognitive dissonance like armor. To them, intellectual consistency is for the weak. They don’t need coherence—they need dominance. All dissent is viewed through the lens of persecution. If you disagree, you’re attacking them. If you question their ideas, you’re trying to silence them.
They want to say the most unhinged, apocalyptic, conspiratorial garbage and then hide behind “agree to disagree” as if we’re all just politely debating lunch options. Disagreement is now censorship. Criticism is oppression.
They’ve rigged the game so they can’t lose, and if you won’t let them win, they’ll accuse you of tyranny. They’ve mistaken comfort for truth. Whatever makes them feel safe, righteous, and powerful is adopted. Whatever threatens that illusion is discarded. Their beliefs are not held—they are worn like war paint. It’s not about what’s real.
It’s about what makes the “others” mad. They don’t even care anymore if it’s true—they care if it feels true, if it confirms the narrative, if it lets them feel like the protagonist in some cosmic struggle where they’re forever the noble underdog.
This is more than delusion. It’s a collapse of the cognitive immune system. Communities are fracturing. Families are shattering. And they will not stop. Because to stop would be to admit doubt. And doubt is the enemy in a worldview built entirely on conviction.
They would rather break the world than question themselves. They’ve made a home in the echo chamber. A palace of delusion, insulated by memes and talking points and YouTube prophets. They are not interested in debate. They are not interested in dialogue. They are interested in domination—and the spiritual ecstasy of never being wrong.
You can see it on their faces. You can hear it in their tone. The glee in contradiction. The arrogance in ignorance. The performative rage. They are part of something now, and it gives them identity, purpose, belonging. The irony is that they call others sheep, but they follow their own shepherds blindly into the void. Their individuality is a costume. Their rebellion is scripted. Their freedom is borrowed.
This isn’t just political. It’s psychological. It’s spiritual. It’s existential. And it’s growing.
Because madness feels a lot like liberation when it tells you that you’re always right.
Leave a comment