Am I unbearable?

A short reflection into the demise of my personality

I recently had the misfortune of being stuck in a confined space with someone whose personality could be described as abrasive, to put it mildly. Within minutes, I went from annoyance to catastrophizing about myself: Am I…like this? The mirror held up was unkind. After a period of self reflection, I’ve realized, I too, had developed a few deplorable character traits.

Somewhere between a few decades of diligent self-help reading and a near-clinical obsession with wellness, my personality has become a mere regurgitation of anti aging tips and unsolicited medical advice. My personality slowly deteriorated with each turn of the page. Humor? Gone. Instead, I’ve become the kind of person who corners you at a party to lecture you on PFAS contamination, industrial manufactured seed oils, heavy metal detox protocols, and pop quizzes about the ingredients in your deodorant stick.

The more I’ve read, the less popular it seems I’ve become at dinner parties. Put simply, I’ve become unbearable. Honestly, I’m a little offended no one staged an intervention.

If I sound bitter, it’s because I am. The toxic state of the world has co-opted my personality. I am a victim of a late stage capitalist society. The Tony Robins gospel would say to take radical ownership. Well you know, Tony? This one’s not on me.

This is big oil’s fault.

Big pharma MADE me do it.

It’s the mega farms that killed my dinner party small talk.

Really anything mega or big, I can guarantee it’s at least partly their fault. So in an act of true defiance, I am in a new era of discovery - a personality reclamation. I might still occasionally lecture you on endocrine disruptors, but remember, it’s their fault for disrupting in the first place.

Who am I between dodging toxins, cold plunging and terrifying people at parties? Subscribe to find out because for better or worse, I’m taking back my personality.

Maybe I will discover that I’m actually hilarious. Could be that there’s been a comedian hiding underneath the laundry list of laser treatments and peptides running through my brain. Or maybe I’m a total gossip - I’ll spend my weekends at the local Starbucks talking about how Sally didn’t show up with Bob for their morning cold foam whipped latte. Gasp. She had to eat her egg bites all alone. Sigh.

There so much I don’t know yet about my personality, and I must say, I am thrilled to meet her - or maybe there’s more than one? Time will tell.

I should also say that during this period of discovery, I’ve decided it will be of utmost importance to steer clear of social media. As I understand it, I may also be at risk of contracting involuntary TPE (total personality exchange), not to be confused with a total plasma exchange, popularized by Bryan Johnson, Silicon Valley’s favorite vampire. This TPE mutates our DNA by pasteurizing and homogenizing our personality microbiome until you become a slurry of gen z slang paired with compulsive nail-tapping on any surface available, and incessant need to film every aspect of your life.

Symptoms are severe: nauseating overuse of the word bro, an idiopathic tic that involves incessant references to Pedro Pascal, and in advanced cases, your home slowly transforming into a satellite Amazon warehouse. Hold onto your credit cards folks. TPE is highly contagious and close contact with any doom scrolling might just be the end of you as you know it.