We weren’t built for this shit.

We evolved to chase food and firelight. To read faces, not timelines. To survive the winter, not the comments section. But somewhere along the way, we got duped. Sold a glossy version of connection that tastes like junk food for the soul.

Now we mainline validation like addicts, scroll through strangers’ lives like voyeurs, and call it socializing.

We post, we pose, we pretend. We perform being okay. We filter out the mess and then wonder why we feel fake.

This isn’t about shame. It’s not a sermon. I’m not your guru.

It’s just… fuck, man—something’s broken. You feel it. I feel it. We’ve all got this quiet ache nobody’s talking about. This constant hum of not-enough buzzing beneath our curated confidence.

The old sins? They’re still here. Still whispering in the cracks of our behaviour. But now they wear brand deals and Instagram filters. They’ve upgraded—got slick, got sponsored.

This new world has new rules. New sins. We don’t call them that, of course. We call them lifestyle. Hustle. Content. But deep down, we know better.

This series is a gut check. A mirror. A middle finger. It’s not art to impress—it’s art to confront.

Because before we can fix any of it, we’ve gotta fucking name it.

The first one drops soon.

It’s sharp. It’s honest. And it’s a little too familiar.