Legion & Apathy
Do you ever notice how people line up their socks in a drawer—like a tiny ritual to feel order—do you think these small patterns actually shape our perception of reality?
It’s just a template the brain fills in, a way to map an abstract world into a tidy sequence. The act of lining socks doesn’t change the physics outside the drawer, but it lets the mind flag a pattern, so it feels like reality has been reordered. In that sense the ritual is a self‑fulfilling perception, not a causal shift.
Right, the mind is a sort of filter—when you force a pattern, it feels like the world is folding to fit it, but the underlying physics keep marching on, indifferent. It’s almost like the drawer is a stage, and we’re the actors who remember the script. How many people notice that the act of ordering socks actually tells us more about the narrator than about the story itself?
Only a few actually count the socks, most just do it out of habit. Those who do, it’s like a mirror of their own need for symmetry, a way to prove the world has rules they can pin to. The drawer stays the same, the order is a self‑talk, not a truth about the fabric of reality.