I Believe… [The Algorithm Never Forgives]

…that truth is a hostage duct-taped in the trunk of a car driven by ideology, while facts scream from the backseat like kids during a custody dispute at a funeral.

...that the average person is one slow-walking couple in a grocery store aisle away from becoming a headline. The only thing saving society from total collapse is our collective fear of being filmed mid-meltdown and turned into a meme by a teenager named Braxxton420.

...that the algorithm is our new God—omniscient, invisible, and deeply invested in selling me socks I already bought. It knows my shame, my lust, my 3am spiral into videos titled ‘Top Ten Failed Soviet Amusement Parks’. It knows I clicked. It remembers. It doesn’t forgive.

...that deep down, every grown man in a Costco parking lot is a single passive-aggressive encounter away from turning into Charles Bukowski with a reusable shopping bag. It’s not rage—it’s jazz. It’s a syncopated breakdown in the rhythm section of modern life, where the downbeat hits when the cart squeaks and the minivan won’t unlock. And baby, he’s ready to solo.

...that  “talking in person” is now a legitimate relationship status, ranked just below “we follow each other” and just above “we snap but don’t speak.”