Projecting Ducks onto the Void: Brutal Look at Meaninglessness and Dusty Expectation.

[Yeah Yeah]

Hey everyone,

People think meaning is this sacred personal truth, like it comes from some deep part of their soul, some unique essence inside them. But most of the time, you didn’t even choose what you find meaningful. You didn’t choose your biology, you didn’t choose your upbringing, you didn’t choose your language, your social norms, your culture, your childhood experiences, your genetics, your traumas, your cartoons, your rewards, your punishments. All of those things shape what feels meaningful to you, long before you had the ability to think for yourself. Like when you look at a cloud and it briefly looks like a duck. You don't choose that. Your mind just throws the image at you. That’s your brain projecting familiar patterns onto chaos. It’s the same with meaning. You're constantly seeing ducks where there are no ducks. You’re seeing love where there isn’t love. You’re seeing hope where there is none. You’re layering your own conditioned ideas onto a reality that’s not doing anything but existing.

Take dating. How many times have you seen someone attractive in public and your brain immediately starts spinning—maybe they like me, maybe we’ll date, maybe we’ll fall in love, maybe we’ll have kids. Your mind constructs an entire fantasy out of thin air before they even make eye contact. Sometimes they don’t even look at you, let alone reflect any of that fantasy back. And yet, the meaning felt real. That imagined connection felt real. That pull, that longing, that story of “maybe this will change my life.” But it's not real. It’s just you, again, projecting meaning onto nothing, and the universe staying completely silent in return. You want life to respond. You want life to say “yes.” But it doesn’t. It never had to. It’s not broken—it just never made the promise in the first place. You did.

Same goes for school. You’re told to study, get good grades, work hard. Why? So you can get a job, find a partner, buy a house, feel good about yourself? Most of that either doesn’t happen, or if it does, it doesn't feel like what you expected. The job becomes a cage. The partner becomes a stranger. The house is just walls. And you sit there wondering what went wrong, when in truth, the whole thing was a script written before you even got to choose your lines. You're chasing meanings that were handed to you like a brochure, not because you chose them, but because you didn’t know there were other options.

Even the idea of having children is often just a coping mechanism. People say they want to give life, build a legacy, pass on what matters. But what they’re really doing is trying to inject meaning into a life that already feels hollow. “Maybe if I have a kid, it’ll matter. Maybe then I’ll feel something again.” But what happens when the kid grows up and doesn’t share your values? You wanted them to become a soldier and they decide to join a rock band. You wanted to pass down your culture, but they want to invent their own. You expected a ripple effect, but they didn’t even notice the stone you threw. They’re free to become whatever they want, which means they’re free to ignore everything you tried to hand them. Your meaning doesn’t pass down automatically. There’s no guarantee. And when you die, that meaning dies with you.

You’ll be forgotten. Not in a thousand years. In two generations. Most people can’t name their great-grandfather. Not his birthday. Not his favorite song. Not the color of his eyes. He lived a whole life, loved, suffered, tried his best. And now? Gone. Dust. If you don’t have kids, you’re not even a footnote. And even if you do, it won’t take long before your name fades from memory. That’s the truth. You’re not a legacy. You’re not a myth. You’re a blip.

And I don’t even buy the “your actions ripple out through the cosmos” thing. Because ripple into what? You can hurt someone and change their life forever. That’s a ripple. But does that mean it was good? No. It’s just motion. Just cause and effect. The universe isn’t morally grading your impact. It doesn’t care what kind of pebble you are. You could spend your whole life building something beautiful, and one earthquake can destroy it in five seconds. Or someone else shows up and turns it into something you never intended. Meaning doesn’t flow cleanly. It collides. It mutates. It disappears.

This is the part most people can’t stomach: the universe is indifferent. It doesn’t hate you, it doesn’t love you, it doesn’t owe you clarity, it doesn’t reflect your intention back at you. You can scream your heart into the sky and it won’t echo. That’s not a bug. That’s how it works. And yet we keep narrating over it, keep pretending that our little projects and relationships and stories are adding up to something. Like if we just keep busy enough, the silence won’t catch up to us. But it does. It always does. And what’s wild is that even that realization can become another meaning project. “Ah, yes, now I’ve transcended meaning. Now I really get it.” But that’s just another duck in the cloud. Just another layer.

So no, I don’t think meaning is sacred. I think it’s reflex. I think it’s survival instinct. I think it’s addiction. And I think most of it was planted in us by things we never chose. And maybe the only honest move is to admit that and stop pretending otherwise.

Edited Wednesday at 08:11 AM by Yeah Yeah

[Yeah Yeah]

I don’t even know how to say this right, but it’s been sitting in my chest all fkn day.

Australia doesn’t feel like it represents anyone. Not me. Not the people like me. Not even the Aboriginals, and this was their land first. Like who the fuck is this government really for?

I’m not talking about laws or politics or policies. I’m talking about identity. A sense of place. The vibe of walking around and feeling like this country gets you — like it sees you, backs you, holds your voice.

But nah. What we got now is just some bland, fake-ass system trying to turn everyone into quiet little consumers. Work. Pay rent. Get taxed. Scroll your phone. Watch your culture get melted down to TikToks and junk ads. Where the fuck is the soul?

And if you do speak up or feel like you don’t belong, they’ll just label you bitter. Or racist. Or lazy. Or broken. Or mentally ill. Anything but actually hearing what the fuck you’re trying to say.

Like I’m expected to work a minimum wage job that barely keeps me alive, spend half my pay on fuel just to get there, get taxed on that fuel, and still be grateful I have a car and not sleeping in a ditch. But at the same time, this same system brings in a bunch of people from other countries — not against them, I get it — but they’re willing to work these shitty jobs and now I’m just some “ungrateful colonist” because I’m burnt out?

How can I be a colonist in a land I was born in and still not feel like I even have a place in it?

And don’t even get me started on the Aboriginals — their whole damn culture got ripped out, buried, replaced with shopping centres and concrete and “sorry speeches” that don’t change shit. The real dreaming? The songlines? The spirits of this land? Gone unless you go looking for it. And even then, it’s all fragmented.

It’s like the system wiped everyone clean and left no one with a real home. Not the old world. Not the new. Not the ones who were here before. Not the ones born into it. Not the ones who just got off the plane.

No culture. No tribe. No meaning. Just “get back to work, citizen.”

I’m not trying to start some deep intellectual debate. I’m not political. I’m just saying what I feel.

And what I feel is — this place doesn’t feel like anybody’s anymore. And no one’s even allowed to talk about it.

Edited Wednesday at 10:04 AM by Yeah Yeah