I don't like it when people work harder.
I’ve been thinking about how much I can’t stand when people suddenly start working harder. Not the kind of effort that comes from inspiration or joy, but the kind that feels like damage control. Like they were drifting, and now they’re flooring it to make up for lost time. The suddenness of it makes me tense. It doesn’t feel intentional. It feels like someone who got caught sleeping and is now sprinting to prove they care.
That kind of burst isn’t comforting. It doesn’t earn trust. It feels frantic. Like effort for the sake of optics. I don’t find steadiness in that. I find noise.
Also, side note: I scorn the world for making the em dash a harbinger of calling wolf with Ai. I held back using the em dash 12 times the past 4 sentences.
What I value is rhythm. Not perfection. Just something sustainable. Something calm. People who move with a kind of quiet integrity, who don’t need a disaster or a spotlight to do what they said they would. People who don’t overextend to be impressive. Who just show up because that’s who they are.
I hate that kind of sudden hustle the same way I hate when someone posts about their new blog post and it’s just another surface-level attempt at being profound. The writing is always a basal tangle of borrowed phrases, oversized words they saw someone else use, and this overly sincere tone that signals depth without actually having any. The captions read like self-help word salad. “Healing isn’t linear,” “The version of me I buried to survive,” “Letting go to grow.” It’s all so polished, so rehearsed. A performance of reflection, not reflection itself.
And still, I have to remind myself: we’re all human. And we’re all experiencing the human experience, whatever that means. Some people really do feel deeply but haven’t figured out how to express it in a way that lands. Some people write in clichés because that’s what they’ve been given, and that’s all they know. Maybe for them, those surface-level phrases do carry weight. Maybe the variation isn’t in the truth but in how loudly it hits each of us. Maybe what feels flat to me feels life-changing to someone else.
Even so, I can’t help but feel like we’re all playing the same game. Posting the same recycled thoughts with slightly different filters. Sharing reflections that are mostly about how we look while having them. I scroll and it all blurs. Everyone trying to be perceived as someone who thinks, someone who feels, someone with depth. And maybe we do all have depth. Or maybe this is it. Maybe this is all the depth there is.
It’s not the effort I mind. It’s the performance. I crave honesty without the need for applause. I want people to write or work or show up not because someone’s watching, but because they can’t not. I want effort that isn’t loud. Reflection that isn’t packaged.
And yeah, I totally get being lazy. Trust me. I will find the easiest, cleanest, least path of resistance every single time. I’m not against efficiency. I just want less theater. Less noise that calls itself intention.
But of course, it’s also a bit of a self callout. I write blogs. I post them on my story. I want people to read them. I want to be understood. Why does a writer write if not to be read? Maybe I just want to be witnessed on my own terms. Look at me when I shout. Notice my silence when I'm quiet. Maybe that’s what we’re all doing.