BLACKOUT FRIDAY

We do not run out of light.
We drown in it.

Screens glow, music loops, banners scream NOW.
Hands move faster than thought.
Desire is outsourced to algorithms.

This is not shopping.
It is a temporary suspension of consciousness.

On Blackout Friday, urgency replaces need.
Debt is deferred.
Responsibility is dimmed.
The future is someone else’s problem.

Crowds move as one body,
not from hunger, but from fear —
the fear of missing out,
the fear of stopping.

Blackout Friday is not chaos.
It is discipline.
A ritual rehearsed every year
until excess feels natural
and restraint feels radical.

We document this moment
not to mock,
but to wake up.

To restore the pause.
To remember choice.
To flip the switch back on.