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As a reminder, this is the place I write experimental stuff, that’s still in progress. It’s not at the level of polish of my other essays, but it is real and it’s raw. If you’d rather read just my completed essays, feel free to opt out in your subscription preferences.
Speaking of polished essays, here’s my latest essay on Status Games.
What I’m thinking about
I’m still broadly thinking about idealism and reality. How repeatedly coming into contact with harsh reality is changing me. This edition captures a snapshot in time of when I felt especially stuck and jaded.
The Jade Demon
The Jade Demon is my romantic way to think about being jaded. I imagine the feeling as a feminine silhouette made entirely of green, hardened jade.1 The she-demon has deep, dark, penetrating eyes, hinting that there’s more to her than her hard exoskeleton. She resembles mother.2
It’s a relatively new feeling for me. Until recently, when my friends said they felt jaded about something, I would nod along—intellectually understanding, but unable to empathize. Feel jaded?…What do you mean? I’m too busy being curious and enthusiastic about life!
But over the last few years, I’m developing a slow, but growing generalized loss of enthusiasm for almost everything. The Jade Demon terrifies me.
For example, take fitness. Even until late last year, I was chasing strength goals with religious fervor: a 250 lb bench, a top 1% VO2 max, front levers and handstand push-ups. It was working—until it wasn’t. Then came the setbacks: elbow and back injuries, a long bout of flu, two months of international travel, and downtime after a minor surgery.
You’re pushing yourself too hard. You don’t have to be amazing. The demon sounds like she wants the best for me, like she doesn’t want to see me get hurt. But there is an edge, a hint of condescension, in her voice. Like she almost wants to say you don’t have to be amazing because… you can’t. Why try?
Then there’s the can of worms of my social life—or the lack thereof. Early this year, I was beyond excited about joining The SF Commons. The social club of my dreams actually existed—on planet Earth, no less. And it was a 15-minute walk from my apartment in San Francisco.
But I’m drowning in projects and pressure, barely able to show up, let alone connect. The club of my dreams feels like another thing I’m failing at.3 I feel appalled that my social life has always been a low priority for me over at least the last five years. I wanted to change that in 2025, but I’m not making much progress. I expected to have made at least a handful of BFFs by now—and though I’ve met lots of amazing people, I haven’t gotten super close with anyone yet.
Being alone is not bad. You are enough. You don’t really need anyone. Again, the demon’s words seem positive on the surface, but there is a cynical undercurrent. The real meaning is closer to you’ve lost more friends than you can count… what makes you think it’ll be different this time? Why go through that pain all over again?4
You are burdened by your own unrealistic expectations, the demon says. There is truth in that. A part of me wants to be ripped by next month and have a soulmate by next weekend. But more than not meeting those expectations, it is more that raw feeling of lacking deep friendships, and of having been single for more than five years, that aches me.
—I simply want the ache to go away.
As I’m writing these words, I feel a small shift. Not that I suddenly started feeling less jaded. Before, I pretended the demon didn’t exist, but now I have the courage to gaze into her eyes. I’m even beginning to understand her.
In my last post, I wrote about the tension between idealism and reality. This piece is about what happens when that tension breaks something inside you. The Jade Demon is what steps in when idealism cracks under the weight of repeated disappointment. She’s not dramatic or loud. She doesn’t scream. She just leans against the wall with folded arms, watching you try, fail, get back up—and eventually stop trying altogether.
And that’s what scares me. Not failure. Not effort. But the erosion of the will to try. The slow numbing. The creeping suspicion that maybe nothing will ever hit quite the same way again. The mundane decay of wonder.
But maybe—just maybe—naming her gives me a sliver of power back. She hasn’t left. But I’m not looking away anymore.
Until next time,
— Aayush
Huge thanks to Lily! Your feedback on bringing out the demon was really on point. Thanks to Evan Hu—our conversation on the topic (before I had even started writing) was insightful. Also thank you to tiscurious for your feedback two days ago!
Don’t read too much into the material of choice. Jade sounds like jaded, so…
Dear mother, if you’re reading this, please don’t take this the wrong way. I only mean that on the surface, the feeling of being jaded has a maternal aura to it, but it’s not you. Chill.
I can’t talk about why I’m so bogged down in public. All I can say is that I’m having to juggle multiple things. I’ve talked to some of you about this.
I’ve moved around a lot and lost lots of friends because of it. And I also cut ties with lots of other friends for other reasons.
Beautifully personified, the Jade Demon