Discernment Returning to Its Place

There’s something about our current society that exhausts me deeply: the feeling that almost everything has become image.

Not image in the simple sense of dressing well, posting a photo, or caring how you present yourself. I get that. Image has always existed. There has always been status, attractiveness, reputation, power, desire, appearance. I’m not naive. I know perception matters. I know how you say something can weigh as much as what you say. I know the world doesn’t run only on truth, merit, or depth.

What tires me is something else.

I’m tired of feeling that many human interactions are no longer real interactions, but small positioning strategies. People saying things not because they feel them, but because they want to provoke a reaction. People playing mystery to hook others. People throwing out ambiguous signals to get attention. People projecting an identity that doesn’t necessarily match who they are. People tailoring their speech to what they think will make them look better. People who don’t want to be seen: they want to be perceived in a very specific way.

And the worst part is that it’s easy for me to spot.

I notice when someone seeks validation. I notice when someone tries to make others jealous. I notice when someone says something to seem interesting. I notice when someone changes stance because they realize their first reaction didn’t fit the other person’s morality. I notice when someone isn’t conversing, but playing a role. And although I can be wrong sometimes, the general pattern is very clear.

That’s what wears me out: not the existence of the social game, but having to participate in it constantly.

Having to measure whether a sentence sounds arrogant. Having to keep quiet about something true because it might make someone uncomfortable. Having to soften an obvious reality so no one feels inferior. Having to explain less because if you explain too much it looks like bragging. Having to feign less intensity so you don’t seem needy. Having to control whether you reply fast or slow, whether you show interest or not, whether you’re too available, whether you seem mysterious, cold, confident, humble.

In the end it feels like many times we don’t live, we manage perception.

And social media have amplified this to an absurd level. Before, a person competed with their surroundings. Now they compete with the whole world. With impossible bodies. With edited lives. With flawless faces. With trips. With money. With aesthetics. With exposed relationships. With a curated version of thousands of people who don’t even live like that all the time.

Comparison is no longer local. It’s global, constant, and algorithmic.

And in that environment, the physical matters more than ever. Image matters more than ever. The ability to project desire, success, mystery, or status can take you very far even if there’s not much substance behind it. You can build a powerful presence just by knowing how to appear. Knowing how to pose. Knowing how to hint. Knowing how not to say too much. Knowing how to create appetite around you.

That bothers me because it’s not that I don’t understand the game. It’s exactly the opposite: I understand it too well.

I understand that perception moves the world. I understand that a brand needs aura. I understand that Disocy also works with image, desire, silence, aesthetics, and mystery. I don’t reject that. Image can be art. It can be language. It can be symbol. It can be a way to protect a vision and make something feel bigger.

But one thing is to use image consciously as a creative tool, and another is to live surrounded by people who turn every human interaction into performance.

I can accept image in a brand. I can even admire it when it’s well-built. What I find hard to bear is image as a substitute for truth in human relationships.

I’m tired of people who play to hook others. I’m tired of people who need constant attention. I’m tired of those who don’t have a position of their own until they see which one looks best. I’m tired of those who claim to be selective but behave as if they’re always looking for a reaction. I’m tired of people turning simple conversations into little power tests. I’m tired of those who romanticize chaos, irresponsibility, or danger because it seems intense or attractive.

I don’t want that close to me.

I’m not looking for perfect people. I’m not perfect either. I have good things and bad things. I know I sometimes expect too much from others. I know my head operates intensely, analytically, and on too many layers. I know I can overread things, anticipate too much, demand coherence where others are simply improvising. But I also know I don’t want to live pretending not to see what I see.

There are real differences between people. In capacity, sensitivity, judgment, depth, beauty, charisma, strength, intelligence, discipline, calm. Denying that out of false-moral thinking seems absurd to me. We aren’t equal in capacities. What should be equal is human dignity.

I don’t believe I’m worth more than anyone. But I don’t want to pretend I don’t stand out in certain things just so others feel comfortable. Just as I accept that some people are taller than me, more handsome, stronger, more social, more magnetic, or more talented than me in a thousand areas, I can also accept that my mind works with a different capacity in certain domains.

That shouldn’t be arrogance. It should be precision.

The problem is society tolerates precision very poorly when it touches intelligence, ambition, or ability. You can say “I’m short” and nobody gets offended. You can say “I’m not good at sports” and nobody gets offended. But if you say “I’m very intelligent” or “I think differently than most,” it immediately sounds like you’re claiming to be superior. And it’s not that.

It’s simply recognizing a difference.

What I want in my life isn’t people who adore me or put me on a pedestal. I don’t need fans. I don’t need people telling me everything I do is incredible. I need real people. People with judgment. People who can tell me the truth. People who don’t turn everything into an attention game. People who don’t need to perform constantly to feel valuable. People who can be with me without calculating what image they’re projecting.

I want relationships where I can rest.

Where I don’t have to analyze every signal. Where I don’t have to wonder if someone is playing me, provoking me, trying to make me jealous, adapting to what I want, or using mystery to hook me. I want people who have a position of their own. Who can be wrong, yes, but from a real place. Who might not fully understand me, but respect who I am. Who don’t need to compete with my world or reduce it to an opportunity for themselves.

Because I already play enough with image where it makes sense: with the brand, with aesthetics, in the public construction of Disocy, in the way I communicate a vision. There image is a tool. There mystery has a function. There perception is part of the language.

But in the intimate I want something else.

I want truth. I want calm. I want coherence. I want depth without theatre. I want to be able to be intense without having to apologize for it. I want to be able to talk about what I’m building without feeling like I’m competing for attention. I want to be able to admire someone not for how they project themselves, but for who they are when they don’t need to project.

Maybe that’s why this era bothers me so much. Because I feel that reality often falls below image. As if the important thing is no longer to be, but to appear convincingly enough. And that can take someone far, yes. But it also leaves a huge sense of emptiness.

I don’t want to live like that.

I can understand the game. I can play it when necessary. I can use it to protect a vision, build a brand, or move through the world. But I don’t want my intimate life to be that. I don’t want my relationships to be a constant board. I don’t want to be near people who force me into constant analysis.

I want to build something real. I want to surround myself with real people. And I want to remember that not everything that shines, attracts, or generates tension has depth.

Sometimes losing interest in someone isn’t coldness. It’s discernment coming back into its place.