On Humans and The Idea of Being Defective
Human beings are not a commodity. Or a product. Or something that is manufactured. Or an object that has an intended use. And yet, sometimes we feel defective. Sometimes we feel like a shopping cart that always veers to the left or a toy that’s missing a crucial piece.
Sometimes — like those objects — we feel that our existence in this world is a mistake. Like our existence here almost borders on absurdity.
Though these feelings can be painful, they are also very revealing because in some ways we are viewing our own existence as we would an object. In the same way we would view something that was built in a factory on the other side of the world that comes with a set of instructions.
But, as we all know, there are no instructions for being human. There’s nothing that says what we’re supposed to do or how we’re supposed to exist. Of course, we should be kind and do good things and take care of others and not think only about ourselves. But those are not instructions so much as they are universal truths.
And even though our lives don’t have instructions, it seems that we are constantly being inundated with ideas about our existence:
- How we should look
- How we should feel
- How we should react
- How we should behave
- How we should spend our time
- What we should value
These ideas can be so pervasive that when we fall outside of the imaginary lines they create, it can lead us to the upsetting conclusion that we must be defective in some way. Though it may sound dramatic, this is not a difficult conclusion to reach if someone spends most of their life being told what they should be, only to look within themselves and see something completely different.
Of course, it’s easy to classify an object as defective. It’s not the right color or the right size or it doesn’t do what it’s supposed to do.
But, when it comes to human beings, there’s no right way to look or feel or exist. Though it files in the face of so many things we encounter on a day-to-day basis, there is no mold. And furthermore, there never was.
The truth of the matter may be that we only feel defective because of the way the world appears.
Maybe we only feel defective because our environment is showing us an image that we’re too busy trying to emulate to take a second to think about whether or not what we’re being told makes sense for us.
Maybe the reason we feel defective is because human beings don’t have instructions but we’ve become so conditioned to a world with instructions and a world where we regard ourselves as objects that we often turn to harmful places for guidance. Because the thought of lacking instructions for something as beautiful and powerful as our own lives can be a very scary prospect.
Perhaps it’s not that we are defective but there are simply layers to our humanity. Layers to who we are and the way we feel. Layers to our existence and our experiences that are not beholden to someone else’s opinion and cannot be defined by a picture on the cover of a magazine or what’s contained inside a television or displayed on the screen of a smartphone.
Because ultimately, an object can be defective but human beings are way too complicated and layered and beautiful to ever let such a simple word like ‘defective’ define their existence.
