It’s the last (visual, non-quoted) line in the movie Cowboy Bebop: Knockin’ at Heaven’s Door. One of the recurring themes in the movie (and greater show arguably) is how someone can be trapped in a state where reality is more than subjective, but distorted. They see different, they hear different. Maybe to them it’s all just a dream, or a hallucination gone on too long; an attempt by their subconscious to make sense of whatever led them to their unaware slumber.

The state of perception the quote refers to is something specific; that of someone who’s become lost in their own mind, interpreting reality through their own preconceptions. A rather poignant example shown in the movie is actually not the main villain, but a throwaway semi-joke character. A computer hacking prodigy; he wants to experience the thrills of life, but can’t break away from the tools that made him who he is. He’ll take virtual achievements more seriously than his own life; when watching others, he views them in the same lens that he views his precious games to the point of barely even registering the brutal murder of a stranger by his employer.

It’s easy to understand the appeal of such life, particularly if you aren’t a genius hacker and are just someone who really loves video games. To spend all day, every day immersed in a world without real consequences. Without real loss. The most hardcore of hardcore games in reality will destroy your progress entirely for the smallest mistake, but that’s it. You can always try again, and learn from each attempt. There may be enemies, clearly marked. You’re always the protagonist, whether you’re the hero or villain. It’s easy to understand. Not at all like reality, with its infinite layers of nuance, hypocrisy and outright absurdity.

Abstraction is hardly limited to games. How many videos exist online where people break down complicated subjects into digestible forms? This isn’t even a bad thing in and of itself; I doubt many people complain about popular ‘scientific ambassadors’ breaking down subject matter so the average layperson can at least start to understand it, even if it’s surface level. It’s when people start to let their own preconceptions in, particularly with social issues and just about anything political that reductionary thinking and omission for simplicity’s sake can become dangerous.

To address the elephant in the room, divisive sociopolitical rhetoric in general. Whether it’s as old as Mein Kampf or as new as the latest in tankie talk, everything is simplified in some way. It’s us vs. them. Good vs. evil. Above every trait it might exude, it’s simple. It’s a relief from the struggles and hardships of what we call reality, free from its many unfair turns, brazen hypocrisy and rampant tragedy at such scale and frequency across the world it’s absurd. Real life is painful, it is harsh and unforgiving, and at the end there might not be any meaning at all to it. I’ve read Mein Kampf and The Turner Diaries. If you accept their offered worldviews, then the cruel and unjust world becomes manageable. There’s an enemy, and they’re the root cause of all that ails the world—and you.

I’ve had countless nights where I either devolve into manic giggle fits or despair so deep I can’t even feel a thing, all because I’m facing the brunt of reality’s callous disregard for anything but perpetuating its own ever-shifting rules. The real world, to use the parlance of our time, fucking sucks. Holy shit it sucks. I fucking hate it, man. I have been driven to unspeakable desperation and fragility that something as simple as a few donated dollars for groceries left me a blubbering wreck. I’ve been irrevocably damaged by life’s twists and turns that I consider it a victory if I don’t impart my own suffering onto others. And I know for a fact that I’m lucky compared to many others less fortunate than I. I’ve definitely been tempted by easy answers and convenient scapegoats.

It’s why when I see the latest mass shooting in the news, or more ‘unique’ incidents like the latest attempt on Salman Rushdie’s life, I can’t help but feel a pang of sympathy for the perpetrators, even as I hope they’re locked away for the rest of their days. I get where these societal rejects who’ve rejected society are coming from; their state of mind. They’ve been comforted by taking a worldview into themselves that boils the complexity of reality down into good and bad—and they’ve decided to take out as much of the perceived ‘bad’ as they can find before it gets them. It’s a threshold few can come back from: once they take life in the name of their worldview, to admit wrongness is to acknowledge their actions as crimes, and let’s face it—these perpetrators are most of the time, young men. Barely out of childhood. How can they cope with the truth of their actions? It’s easier to deepen the lie.

You can see a lot of this willful rejection of reality in favor of a simpler fiction on offbeat websites, the kinds of places where terms like ‘blackpill’ and ‘-maxxing’ are thrown about without a hint of irony. It’s a group effort; the people in their basement sinking further into these mental pits don’t do it alone. A lot of these places even started out as ways for people to just cope with life. I mean hell, look at how ‘incel’ started.

It’s not like life is getting any easier for the average person either. Things will change faster, and more and more it’s looking like we’re in for more turbulent times before the calm we hope as much as suspect is just over the horizon. All I can think of, the closest thing to a balm for these agonized feelings is to connect with something older. Something stable, something older. Maybe it’s a favorite spot or seat, a park or even taking a seat on a front step. It won’t fix anything and it certainly won’t make anyone feel better, but it’s like a totem. It binds you to reality in a subtle way that transcends media or even language. Like looking at a wound and acknowledging the pain instead of hiding it and trying to pretend it’s not there.

This isn’t to say that I’m against some good old escapism when reality is just, in that moment, a bit too much to bear. Lord knows I like to vanish into familiar games and thrice-watched anime. No one gets any brownie points for steadfastly enduring all of reality’s pain without pause until they simply break one day and implode in a maelstrom of self-harm. It’s a balance I think, like many things—with the specifics of that balance being unique to each person. I think escapism can be like recharging a battery, a battery that gets better with use, not worse. Each time you use it, you can use it a little longer before needing to retreat and recharge. Eventually, you find equilibrium—or that never-obtainable-until-we-realize-we’re-already-there state called ‘being a well-adjusted adult.’