Lately, I’ve been feeling antisocial. I don’t exactly know why. Maybe it’s the general state of the world—this endless barrage of bad news and noise. Maybe it’s just one of those moods that creeps in unannounced. But whatever the reason, I find myself withdrawing, and then almost immediately, I start questioning it.

Shouldn’t I be more engaged? Shouldn’t I be reaching out, staying connected, being a part of things?

It’s a strange contradiction, isn’t it? The mind always seems to whisper two things at once: You should be with people. You should be alone. And whichever one I choose, the other lingers in the background, second-guessing me.

But here’s something to consider—who is this “I” that both craves solitude and thinks it should be social? It’s as if I’m split into two selves: one that feels the pull of isolation, and another that stands back, observing, questioning, making judgments. And the real struggle comes from believing that one of them must be right and the other must be wrong.

In reality, there’s no rule that says I must be social, just as there’s none that says I must be alone. Both are natural states. Sometimes we withdraw, sometimes we engage. Sometimes we are like the moon, hidden in shadow; other times, we reflect light back into the world.

The important thing is not to force myself into socializing out of guilt or obligation. Can I just sit with this feeling instead? Can I let it be, without trying to fix it? Because maybe solitude is exactly what I need right now. And when the time is right, I’ll gravitate toward people again—not because I should, but because I want to.

So, for now, I’ll be as I am, without forcing anything. And if I do rejoin the world, I’ll do it the way a musician rejoins the orchestra—not because he has to, but because he feels the rhythm calling him back.

Are we racing full speed toward disaster like the Titanic?

Late-stage capitalism describes a system plagued by extreme inequality, corporate dominance in politics, and unsustainable consumerism. In 2025, the White House and Republican-led Congress embody this phase, with policies overwhelmingly benefiting the wealthy, corporate interests steering decision-making, and environmental protections discarded despite looming crises.

President Donald Trump’s economic policies reflect late-stage capitalism’s defining traits. His administration’s tax cuts, projected to reduce federal tax revenue by $5 trillion to $11 trillion over a decade, disproportionately benefit high-income individuals and corporations. Critics argue this follows the pattern of privatizing gains while socializing losses, as resulting deficits will lead to devastating cuts in essential social programs. While supporters claim these cuts will spur investment and wage growth, historical trends show corporations most typically use such windfalls for stock buybacks and dividends, inflating asset prices and enriching executives rather than benefiting workers.

Tariff policies, including a 25% levy on imports from Canada, Mexico, China, and the EU, further worsen economic instability. These measures will lead to higher consumer prices and job losses, mainly affecting lower-income populations. Nobel laureate Joseph Stiglitz calls this approach “crony rentier capitalism,” a system that enriches capital owners at the expense of the majority, concentrating wealth and power — a hallmark of late-stage capitalism.

Trump’s Cabinet, filled with ultra-wealthy individuals and former corporate executives, reinforces the melding of economic and political power. Elon Musk, for instance, inexplicably appointed head of the Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE), is an unprecedented Cabinet role. Other figures, such as Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth and Attorney General Pam Bondi, illustrate the administration’s preference for high-profile personalities from business and media.

Meanwhile, Trump’s close ties with corporate leaders raise concerns about policy manipulation. His private dinner with Amazon’s Jeff Bezos coincided with editorial shifts at The Washington Post, favoring narratives on personal liberties and free markets. Such engagements betray an open alignment between the administration and corporate interests, reinforcing the fact of an oligarchic system favoring the elite.

To maintain support amid growing inequality, the administration relies on distraction. Trump’s media strategies — hot-mic moments requesting praise, restructuring the White House press pool to favor right-wing outlets, and grandiose claims — align with late-stage capitalism’s preference for spectacle over substance. Policies that primarily benefit the elite are masked by absurd political theater, diverting public attention away from where the damage they’re doing is on full display.

Late-stage capitalist societies historically show similar trends: extreme inequality, corruption, and an elite detached from the struggles of the working class. Comparisons to the Gilded Age are inevitable, with billionaires amassing unprecedented wealth while income inequality reaches its highest levels since the 1920s. The top 0.1% of Americans now hold as much wealth as the bottom 90%, a concentration of riches reminiscent of the eve of the Great Depression.

Even the late Roman Empire offers a cautionary tale. Roman elites indulged in luxury and political games while their empire crumbled beneath them. Today’s ruling class prioritizes tax cuts for the ultra-wealthy over infrastructure, healthcare, or wage growth. Political theatrics — distracting narratives and populist rhetoric — serve the same function as Rome’s “bread and circuses,” keeping the masses entertained while real issues remain unaddressed.

Marxist and critical theorists predicted many of today’s patterns: wealth concentration, the capitalist class capturing political power, and the eventual crises caused by overproduction and inequality. Karl Marx foresaw capitalism’s self-destructive tendencies, where the system feeds on itself until it collapses. The current administration’s policies, favoring short-term corporate gains over sustainable economic stability, follows this trajectory.

Lenin’s view of imperialism as capitalism’s final stage finds echoes in Trump-era policies prioritizing resource control over global cooperation. Neoliberal scholars point to regulatory capture, erosion of safety nets, and public disillusionment with democracy — trends vividly displayed in today’s governance. The phrase “late-stage capitalism” has even gone mainstream, used to mock modern absurdities, from $5 million beachfront condos selling while sea levels rise to companies offering “thoughts and prayers” apps instead of healthcare benefits.

The Trump era exemplifies late-stage capitalism’s contradictions: wealth concentration, political corruption, and environmental neglect. Economic policies deepen inequality, political decisions serve the elite, and environmental stances mortgage the future for present gain. America today really does resemble a cruise ship where the first-class deck enjoys luxury, engine-room workers toil unrewarded, and the captain denies the iceberg ahead.

History shows such a trajectory is unsustainable. The question remains: will the U.S. correct course, or are we witnessing the final act of an empire on the brink?