Miley Cyrus’ “Flowers” became a massive hit. She sings, “I can buy myself flowers,” and sure, that’s entirely possible. Buying flowers, going for a walk, treating yourself to dinner—none of these things require waiting for someone else. But why is this being framed as some grand statement?
Yes, Miley, you can do everything on your own. You can buy yourself flowers, bring them home, and stare at them—even though the whole point of receiving flowers is that someone else gives them to you. But hey Miley, you bought those flowers yourself. What exactly are you planning to think while looking at them?
But let’s be real—Cyrus is just a convenient excuse for this conversation. She works with lyricists, managers, and corporations that know exactly what the market wants. And this time, they’re selling loneliness.
Love, commitment, relationships… These were once fundamental to human life. Now, buying yourself flowers is celebrated as a victory. When did giving flowers or receiving them become something extraordinary?
This isn’t about being in a relationship or not. The real issue is how things that were once natural and simple have now become a performance. Buying yourself flowers is normal, sure. But once upon a time, this gesture meant something—it was about connection, about a shared sentiment. Have flowers now been reduced to just another decorative object? When did thinking about someone, making a small gesture, become outdated?
Yes, Miley, you can buy yourself flowers. But why do you need to? That’s the real question. We need to embrace social bonds, we need to connect. Human existence has always been built upon the existence of others, and no matter how much we struggle, loneliness has never truly been our thing.
Let’s explore that. (As I was writing this, Cyrus’ song started playing in the café where I’m sitting.)
In today’s hyper-connected, image-obsessed world, we’re all players in a bizarre game of self-discovery and self-destruction. Technology races ahead, society splinters, and the individual—once the cornerstone of community—finds themselves adrift in a sea of virtual noise and shallow consumption. This blog post dives deep into the messy reality of what it means to be human in the 21st century: how we’re simultaneously elevated and erased, how our identities are shaped and shattered, and why alienation has become the defining vibe of our time. Buckle up—we’re unpacking the tension between individuality and society, the pull of the digital abyss, and the quiet tragedy of losing ourselves in the process.
The individual vs. Society: A Timeless Tug-of-War
Let’s start with the basics: humans don’t exist in a vacuum. We’re wired for connection—tribes, families, communities, whatever you want to call it. Historically, our survival depended on sticking together, sharing resources, and building something bigger than ourselves. But here’s the kicker: the individual has always been the spark that keeps society humming. You can’t have a collective without people who think, feel, and act on their own terms.
Fast-forward to now, and that balance is fucked—excuse the academic slip. The rise of industrial societies, and later the digital age, flipped the script. Where once we defined ourselves through shared rituals or collective goals, now it’s all about me. Personal freedom, self-expression, the Instagram-worthy life—it’s a seductive promise. Data backs this up: a 2021 Pew Research study found that 72% of adults in developed nations prioritize individual achievement over communal well-being, a sharp rise from just 45% in the 1980s. But this shift isn’t all sunshine and selfies. It’s a double-edged sword, slicing us off from the very roots that used to ground us.
The argument here is simple yet brutal: as we chase individuality, we risk losing the glue that holds society together. Think of it like a crowded bar—everyone’s shouting to be heard, but no one’s really listening. The result? A creeping sense of disconnection, where we’re surrounded by people yet feel utterly alone. This tension sets the stage for what’s really plaguing us: alienation.
Alienation: The Silent Epidemic of Our Age
So, what’s alienation? It’s not just feeling like a weirdo at a party. It’s deeper, darker—a sense of being cut off from yourself, your surroundings, and the people who supposedly matter. Picture this: you’re scrolling X, liking posts, maybe even dropping a witty comment, but inside, you’re hollow. That’s alienation in action—a split between who you are and where you fit.
This isn’t some abstract philosophy bullshit—it’s measurable. A 2023 World Health Organization report pegged global loneliness rates at an all-time high, with 1 in 4 adults reporting “persistent feelings of isolation” despite living in densely populated areas. Why? Because modern life is a paradox. We’re more connected than ever—5.3 billion internet users worldwide, per 2024 stats—but those connections are shallow as hell. Texts instead of talks, emojis instead of emotions, likes instead of love. It’s a transactional existence, and we’re the ones getting shortchanged.
Alienation hits on two levels: personal and social. On the personal front, it’s about losing your grip on who you are. You’re not a person anymore—you’re a profile, a brand, a collection of curated moments. Socially, it’s the unraveling of the ties that bind us—family, community, even shared values. When everything’s a commodity, from relationships to beliefs, what’s left feels disposable. The argument here is that this dual alienation isn’t just a side effect of progress—it’s the main event.
Freedom or a Fancy Cage?
Now, let’s talk about the elephant in the room: technology. The internet, smartphones, social media—they’ve rewired how we live, think, and fuck up our lives. On one hand, they’ve handed us the keys to a kingdom of possibility. Want to learn a skill? YouTube’s got you. Want to connect with someone across the globe? X is a click away. A 2022 OECD report estimated that digital tools have boosted global productivity by 15% since 2000. That’s real shit—progress we can measure.
But here’s the flip side: that same tech traps us in a cycle of distraction and detachment. The postmodern world leans hard into virtuality—everything’s an image, a simulation, a shiny lie. You’re not living; you’re performing. And the audience? A faceless algorithm that doesn’t give a damn about your soul. This shift from physical reality to digital fantasy is where alienation digs its claws in. You’re not a body anymore—you’re a pixelated ghost, floating through a world that doesn’t touch you back.
Take social media as Exhibit A. A 2023 study from the Journal of Social Psychology found that heavy users (over 3 hours daily) reported 30% higher rates of anxiety and disconnection than light users. Why? Because it’s a mirror that only reflects what you want to see—or worse, what others want you to be. The “new human” isn’t social anymore—they’re a lone wolf in a virtual pack, chasing validation instead of meaning.
identity in Flux: Who the Hell Are We?
if alienation is the disease, identity is the battleground. Back in the day, who you were was tied to tangible stuff—your village, your trade, your kin. Now? It’s a free-for-all. You can be anyone online, but that freedom comes with a catch: it’s hard to know what’s real. Are you the witty shitposter on X, the polished pro on LinkedIn, or the quiet mess crying into your coffee at 2 a.m.? All of them? None?
This fluidity sounds liberating, but it’s a mindfuck. When identity becomes a performance, you start losing the thread of yourself. The argument here is that modern life forces us into a double whammy: we ditch social roots for individuality, then ditch individuality for a hollow image. It’s like trading a house for a tent, then setting the tent on fire because it’s not aesthetic enough.
Empirical evidence backs this up. A 2020 survey by the American Psychological Association found that 65% of Gen Z respondents struggled with “identity confusion,” citing social media and societal expectations as top culprits. The constant pressure to reinvent—to “reset” yourself for the next trend—leaves you unmoored. Alienation creeps in when you realize the “you” you’ve built doesn’t even feel like home.
Society’s Role: The Machine That Grinds Us Down
Let’s zoom out. Society isn’t just a backdrop—it’s an active player in this shitshow. Industrialization kicked it off, turning humans into cogs in a machine. Now, the digital economy’s taken it further, making us data points in a profit-driven matrix. The promise of progress—better tech, more wealth—sounds great until you see the cost: a world where values erode, and people are reduced to consumers.
Think about urban life. Cities are bursting—over 56% of the global population lived in urban areas in 2023, per UN stats—but they’re also alienating as fuck. Crowds everywhere, yet no one knows your name. Sociologists call this “urban anonymity,” and it’s a breeding ground for disconnection. The system thrives on it—keep people isolated, and they’ll buy more shit to fill the void. Consumerism isn’t a choice; it’s a trap.
The counterpoint? Society’s always been a mix of unity and division—gender, class, ethnicity, you name it. But today’s pace amplifies the fractures. Technology shrinks space and time, but it doesn’t shrink the gaps between us. Instead, it magnifies them, leaving us stranded in our own little islands of existence.
The Price of Progress: Hollow Men in a Hollow World
Here’s where it gets grim. Progress—tech, capitalism, whatever—promised us adventure, power, and transformation. And sure, we’ve got smartphones and space travel. But it’s also a wrecking ball, smashing everything we used to hold dear. A 2024 Gallup poll found that 48% of adults in high-income countries feel “life lacks meaning,” up from 32% a decade ago. That’s not a glitch; it’s a feature.
The modern individual is caught in a whirlwind of renewal and ruin. You’re free to be anything, but that freedom comes with instability—constant change, uncertainty, and a nagging sense that you’re not enough. Alienation isn’t just loneliness; it’s the exhaustion of trying to keep up. You’re not a hero in this story—you’re a ghost, haunting your own life.
Literature’s been screaming this for years. Think of T.S. Eliot’s “Hollow Men”—empty shells drifting through a meaningless world. That’s us, chasing likes and lattes instead of purpose. The argument isn’t that progress is evil—it’s that it’s unbalanced, prioritizing speed and stuff over soul.
Can We Escape the Void?
So, are we doomed? Not necessarily. The tension between individual and society, freedom and alienation, isn’t new—it’s just louder now. The fix isn’t simple, but it starts with awareness. Recognize the game: tech and society push us apart, but we don’t have to play along. Rebuilding connection—real, messy, human connection—could be the antidote.
Data hints at hope. A 2023 study from the Journal of Happiness Studies found that people who prioritize face-to-face interaction over digital contact report 25% higher life satisfaction. Small steps—ditching the screen for a conversation, trading consumption for creation—might claw back some ground. But it’s on us to choose.
The modern world is a paradox: it lifts us up and tears us down, promising freedom while chaining us to isolation. Alienation isn’t a buzzword—it’s the quiet ache of a species losing its way. We’re not just individuals or cogs in a machine; we’re both, and neither, all at once. The challenge is to navigate this mess without losing ourselves—or each other. So, next time you’re doomscrolling, ask: who’s this for? The answer might just save you.
