2000 American Psycho
In my mind, having a house, a car, cats and dogs, and a group of so-called “good” friends—being able to show off wealth, talk about art, discuss wine, and listen to music together—that should already be the happiest kind of life. So why do some of those people care more than I do about others’ expressions and reactions? Why do they cling to trivial, ridiculous logic in places I would never even notice, stubbornly refusing to admit fault—so stubborn that they would rather drag the whole world down with them than let anyone else have peace?
They keep twisting their arguments. When one angle no longer works, they jump to another without any logic. They invent one strange story after another to divert responsibility and attention. Gradually, people lose respect for them, and the atmosphere around them becomes increasingly uncomfortable. Aside from their money, no one wants to get close—because even one extra sentence of conversation feels like suffering.
These people already possess things others may never reach in a lifetime. Yet no amount of admiration or envy seems visible to them. Instead, they indulge in bullying others, humiliating them, pretending to be victims, ignoring collective interests—and chasing a very short-sighted kind of pleasure.
No one in this world can completely surpass another person in everything. I once heard a story: a monk steamed a bun for himself. Others might make buns sweeter, more fragrant, or with better ingredients—but he still preferred the one he made himself.
It’s like painting. The person who loves a painting the most is always the painter. Even world-famous artworks—say, those by Picasso—no matter how expensive they are, people who don’t understand them simply don’t understand them. If it weren’t because everyone says they are valuable, would collectors truly want to hang them at home and invite like-minded people to discuss the artist’s ideas, personality, brushwork, composition, and use of color?
Slow and indifferent as I am, I don’t even pay attention to whose face is printed on banknotes. Whatever that person accomplished or how great their achievements were—I may never have thought about it, or I simply don’t remember. So when I feel inexplicable malice or deliberate targeting from these so-called “rich” individuals, what I feel most is confusion—something difficult to understand and even harder to believe.
Unfortunately, in this “power-admiring” world, people tend to rationalize the behavior of these “elites.” If they make a “careless mistake,” any accountability becomes “hysterical persecution.” But a “nobody” must remain cautious at every moment, argue over every detail, and defend themselves endlessly—almost to the point of exhaustion—just to “grow through hardship,” as if that were only natural.
If we ask why so many people choose to “lie flat,” isn’t it the result of learned helplessness? Others’ success offers no practical reference, while one’s own attempts are met again and again with unreasonable, unfair, and exaggerated obstacles. Under such conditions, it feels easier not to think about tomorrow at all—just to live one more day comfortably and count that as a victory.
Perhaps the lowest and highest classes share one thing in common: neither truly considers the public nor the collective future. When the “answer” cannot be changed, people change the “algorithm.” In an environment swinging between extreme malice and selective goodwill, prioritizing individual survival becomes a kind of survival wisdom.
After all, it was the “elites” who first rewrote the algorithm—creating precedents that shattered consensus, encouraged fragmentation, and rejected cooperation, all to secure their own power. As the hearts of the “nobodies” drift farther from the "mainstream", who can really be blamed? After watching this film, would anyone truly sympathize with the protagonist and call his life “unfortunate”?
I believe that one day, all the lonely and suppressed “nobodies” will collectively reach a breaking point. Only then will they find ways to reconnect and resist some of the elite classes that has long since lost its sanity and moral grounding. But before any larger reckoning arrives, the best choice is simple: stay as far away from such people as possible—no matter how much money they seem to offer—and protect your own life first.
And perhaps even death—or some form of ending—is not entirely tragic for those who appear glamorous on the surface yet remain hollow and fragile inside, incapable of facing reality.
Until the day of reckoning comes, I will keep believing this:
Don’t look back—just keep moving forward.
