Learning how to say I and mean it.
A journey I have walked, from the shadows of borrowed voices to the quiet strength of authentic selfhood, marking the way forward, one deliberate step and thought at a time.
The World Where “I” Is Borrowed
It has become very clear over my life that we live in a world where the word “I” is at best tolerated. Often, to be able to say “I” requires some sort of permission, as if most people require some sort of permission to even attempt to say it. This ‘permission’ is not an external grant or free gift but the heavy burden of social conditioning, an invisible gatekeeper forged by countless voices beyond our control. Yet, within this cage lies the spark of choice: to accept the borrowed ‘I’ or to wrestle free and claim it as truly one’s own.
Thus, when most people say it, it’s at best casual, careless and meaningless, as if saying it, invoking it as if it were a spell, would give them everything that word means, what it implies. It is an attempt to say: “I can think for myself, I live for myself, I am free.” and the next moment go on about how ‘real values’ are being restored, as if those values were handed down by some sacred symbol, rather than chosen and reasoned by an individual mind, and have no idea what those values even mean or adopt the latest slogans, labels, or fashionable grievances, parroting whatever their social circle champions this week without pausing to question the ideas themselves.
No, they are not “I” s, they are “We”s, second-handers, people who drift through life with no original thoughts or opinions other than what others have taught them or told them to have. These people don’t have to be political either, we could talk about somebody who brags they are “killing it” in their sales job, yet sells services and products they don’t believe in, to clients they quietly despise.
What Is a Second-Hander?
To be exact, a second-hander is:
…is one who regards the consciousness of other men as superior to his own and to the facts of reality. It is to a [second-hander] that the moral appraisal of himself by others is a primary concern which supersedes truth, facts, reason, logic. The disapproval of others is so shatteringly terrifying to him that nothing can withstand its impact within his consciousness; thus he would deny the evidence of his own eyes and invalidate his own consciousness for the sake of any stray charlatan’s moral sanction. It is only a [second-hander] who could conceive of such absurdity as hoping to win an intellectual argument by hinting: “But people won’t like you!”
“The Argument from Intimidation” The Virtue of Selfishness,141
To say that most people are at least partly second-handers would not be a stretch, especially when it comes to morality and ethics. Heck, in some cases, even I do, though I am getting better at identifying it and preventing it. Some people can be first-hand in some areas and second-hand in others. A lot of people are fully second-handed and can say but never mean “I.” Then you get the rare person who simply cannot be second-handed; they are too independent for that, mostly because they have been brought up that way or have a force of will that lets them.
But what does it truly mean to be second-hand? It is to live on borrowed beliefs, with borrowed goals, on borrowed morals. It is to never question, to never ask, do I believe that? It is to say “I” think when they mean “We” think, and "we" is whoever they have chosen to do the thinking for them, and more often than not, they didn’t even choose that, they were taught who to follow, and they did. The extremely religious monk or priest, the dyed-in-the-wool socialist, the <X> gang for life thug, the politician who flip-flops on every issue to be popular enough to stay in office, or the individual who states they prosper under any state or system. All of these types and more don’t base their life on what they want; they haven’t decided what is right, what their standards are, and they all live by somebody else's will, wishes, adapting and showing them to have a spine made of rubber. Sure, they survive, but they do so by sacrificing the most important parts of themselves; they compromised something essential to their being or values, or they have learned to fake virtue while playing the game. If any shoes fit, please wear them with my compliments.
As I mentioned earlier, I was once in that position, and I do occasionally slip back in, but I am getting better.
Breaking Free: The First Independent Thought
When I first learned to truly say “I”, to have my first truly independent thought, it was on the back of pain. As you get to that point, you have to push past so much that was ‘programmed’, what was put in by teachers, parents, friends, media, and cultural social osmosis. To realise just how much you think is not yours, that your morals were not chosen, your goals not even yours, is not a nice feeling. The world you knew crashes around you, and you don’t know what is true, what is right or wrong. I remember crying into my beer (it hit me when I had a ‘couple’ back when I still drank alcohol), which didn’t help. But that's only the first; it hits hard again when you realise that not only was what you thought not yours, but it was “designed” to destroy you, to make you a willing serf. It makes you question everything, and then only then are you met with the first real choice - your first independent thought- a binary question. It’s a choice made famous by The Matrix: the metaphorical blue pill or red pill.
The Matrix Choice: Blue Pill or Red Pill
The blue pill means you reject the revelations and go back into the 'matrix'. Not exactly the same, but close enough. You tweak a few things, tell yourself you’ve changed, but the core remains untouched. Life goes on, slightly rearranged, but fundamentally the same; ultimately, you go back into the fog.
The red pill means you leave. You accept that most of what you knew was false or second-hand, and you go down the rabbit hole. You keep digging. You start from scratch, not to be edgy or rebellious, but because you’d rather live in a broken reality than a polished lie.
To be clear, being independent isn’t the same as being rebellious. The rebel asks, “What do others believe?” and reflexively says the opposite. Libertarians are famous for this. True rebellion is the raw echo of defiance against others’ beliefs, a noisy refusal without foundation. True independence, by contrast, is the quiet inquiry into what is true, no matter how unsettling or solitary that path may be. One may start as a rebel, but true independence demands one shed that skin and root in reality itself. As such, the independent man asks, “What is true?” and if that happens to align with no one or everyone, so be it. Rebellion is still a reaction to others; it depends completely on others. Independence is a loyalty to reality and one’s own mind.
I chose the red. Even if that doesn’t guarantee that you will be free from fog immediately, it is the first step. If you get sidetracked, or are unclear about what the lies are, or don’t push hard enough, you can fail and wind back into the same lie in a new coat. A tragic example is someone who escapes one dogma only to fall into another, never fully breaking free from the chains of borrowed belief, demonstrating how difficult true independence can be. When I said “I” for the first time, choosing reality over lies, doing it not out of rebellion but out of a desire to know the truth, no matter where it led, it felt both liberating and scary. It was like stepping into a land unknown; it looked familiar, but the more you looked, the less you recognised.
The Soft “I” and the Hard “I”
When I sobered up and kept pushing, sometimes alone, sometimes with help, I found myself not merely seeking the ‘I’, but becoming it. This wasn’t just the choice to think, it was the first moment I emerged fully from the fog. When I had my clarity, not just to say it and mean it, but be it. The first “I”, not the soft “I” of the commitment to truth, but the hard “I” of I am, I want, I see, it was like fog being burned away by the bright midday sun, hard on the eyes at first but to go from being able to see maybe a few miles to the edge of the horizon and beyond… I lack the words to describe it. But yet, I know that I am not far enough out of that fog to be fully rid of it, it’s always tempting, with the familiar and the “known”, a fog that can give you a “clear” path, a tunnel of its own making which all you have to do is follow. Thanks, I will pass.
The difference between Hard and Soft “I” is one of depth and commitment; the soft “I” is to acknowledge one’s own existence and choice to think independently. It is fragile, vulnerable to doubt, hesitation, and outside influence. However, the soft “i”s fragility is not a call for protection or sympathy; it is a transition phase, a necessary tension that only resolves through earned conviction, not collective reassurance. The hard “I” goes beyond this: it is the full embrace of one’s identity and values, living decisively and consistently by them, regardless of external pressures.
Even as the hard ‘I’ is grasped, in all its luminous clarity of self and purpose, it remains a horizon ever ahead. The struggle does not vanish; it transforms into a steady vigilance, a conscious choice renewed each day against the subtle encroachments of doubt and ‘we’, you will never reach that horizon, but the fog will disappear into the horizon behind you if you get far enough.
But those values must be earned, not adopted out of fashion or opposition. Too many confuse self-authorship with the thrill of rebellion. True independence is not loud. It can even look, from the outside, like conformity, on the odd occasion, if what you've reasoned aligns with what others happen to hold. The test isn’t whether it’s popular. The test is whether you chose it and if it fits reality.
The Hard “I” is when your own thoughts are made into action. It is the “I” in the “I built that” that there is concrete proof you exist and can live in this world. It is the “I” that rides in the cab of the freight special to Colorado to go over the bridge made of Rearden metal for the first time.
Let me be clear, to come out of the fog to chart your own course is not easy for somebody who has never had this clarity from birth. It’s scary, wild, untamed. Yes, you can see, but it will lead you to areas you never thought you would ever go, and the worst is often this path is one you must walk alone, yet you will bump into fellow travellers. The fog led you into crowds; it was moving you in there, funnelling you into the crowds and where it wanted; however, in clear weather, you are on your own.
Let’s not pretend the “we” doesn’t have its selling points… for them; but these ‘selling points’ are merely the siren songs of collectivist thought, designed to lure the independent soul into surrender and obedience, a price far too high to pay.
Independence vs. Inversion
It’s easy to fall into the trap of inversion, taking whatever the crowd, the “We” believes and flipping it, thinking this alone makes you free. But you’re still tied to the crowd; you just orbit them backwards. Real independence doesn't obsess over disagreement. It obsesses over truth. Sometimes that puts you with others, sometimes against, but never because of them.
“We” is seductive to many because it offers prewritten opinions, ready-made virtue, and the warm illusion of belonging. There is no need to think; just echo. There is no need to stand alone; just blend in. All it costs is your mind and your total obedience, and they pay that price gladly. Yet, there exists a rarer ‘we’: not a collective but a convergence, independent minds who walk side by side for a stretch, not because they must, but because their values and goals happen to align, for now. This ‘we’ does not diminish the “I”; it honours it. This voluntary fellowship of fellow travellers stands in deliberate and principled opposition to any collectivist ideology or doctrine that demands obedience, conformity, or subsumes the individual to the group. It is founded solely on choice, reason, and mutual respect.
The path I chose is not one of inversion but of independence, not a reaction to others, but a commitment to truth. This path is not a mirror image of the herd’s follies but a solitary pilgrimage into the terrain of reality, where truth alone holds sway, and the self is both cartographer and traveller. I chose it deliberately, not to defy, but to live by my own judgment. And that, I believe, is the most important choice one can make outside of the decision to live itself.
From Thought to Action: Building Your “I”
Which leads to the next part, one can think, think and think, and nothing will ever get done. It is not good enough to say “I” without doing “I”, or rather, it is one thing to say “I built that” but another to point to something material, physical, or digital and say “I built THAT!”. It can be anything: a body of work, a business, a philosophy, a reputation. You need to have proof to say I exist and have something to say it. You need to create it, not because somebody told you, or somebody asked you to, not out of obligation or for approval, but because you want to, in service of your values. To build and trade is not to shun others, but to engage with them on the terms of your own making, no begging, no blind obedience, but mutual respect founded on earned value. It is the art of standing firm while reaching out, forging connections without losing self. It turns self-esteem from an unknown ideal to a metaphysical fact.
Practical Steps: Who Am I and What Do I Want?
You could say that this blog, if not this post, is what I wanted to build, and impart my confession that I need to better practise what I preach.
So, how does one go about doing this, now that we are out of the fog and into clarity? Well, I guess we have to ask the questions: Who am I? and what do I want?
We can go into theory first: I would recommend “Secrets of a Passionate Life: A Thinker's Guide to Profound Happiness” by Tal Tsfany, but only if you get stuck or lack vision. You also need to learn to let go of what others think, as frankly, if you let the opinions of others (especially those with no expertise in a field) influence you, then you're pretty much back to where you started. Then, when you have an idea, think it through: is it rational? Is it life-serving? Do you want to do it? Seriously think that through, then take that first step and don’t stop, not until you either succeed or know enough to think, nope, bad idea, back to the drawing board.
You are free to take this advice or not, I don’t really care, but if you do, then let me know.
Why Building Matters: The Price and the Reward of “I”
But why, why is building important? Can I just do the theory and call it a day? Let me speak from a few years of hard-earned clarity: absolutely not. You will stagnate, get bored and curse existence for not giving you everything you wanted, just because you have not realised that when you say “I” you choose to take what you want and pay for it. Existence does not owe you something for existing, even if when you say “We”, it looks like it does. It doesn’t work like that. If you want to be an “I”, a real “I”, you need to build and trade, not beg, steal or ‘borrow’.
The “we” will give you everything, albeit in the form of mass-produced, subpar slop designed for everybody and nobody in particular, at the small price of your soul, your individuality, and your obedience. When you trade with “I" s, you get the best they have to offer, bespoke and tailored to your needs at a price if you have built something worth trading for or their tool of universal trade, money. But it’s more than that, there is nothing so satisfying as to make the best thing you can and say I built that, because I wanted to and it is MINE! It gives self-esteem, it shows you that yes, you don’t need the “we”, you are the master of your own existence, and there will be those who will celebrate it with you. It shows you that you exist, that reality is conquerable to you, and the moment you see this, you feel and think it; there is no better pleasure in the world, no drug or cheap thrill could ever come close.
The Constant Struggle: Maintaining the “I” in a “We” World
Just because you and I are or have reached this state, you have chosen so, it doesn’t mean it’s over. The choice to be an “I”, to earn the right to say “I” and mean it, is an ongoing process -a choice that will become automatised in your psyche at some point- but at first it must be a conscious choice, until the pull of “we” has faded into nothing. It is what I am doing. I am still moving from theory to action and sliding back and forth, but it’s overall in one direction, and that is to be able to say “I” and live it. I have earned the soft “I”, but not the hard “I” yet. Even those who have earned the hard “I” still need to keep at it because most still have hangovers from the past and the culture blasts you with “WE” in every corner it can, 24/7/365, trying to tempt you back into ‘the matrix’, the “fog” to surrender, to give in, to “let somebody else think about it”. It’s tiring, I can see why some would want to hide and rest, if you know, you know.
Learning to say “I” is a long and difficult process, and until the culture prefers “I” over “we”, it will be tiring due to the constant vigilance required to make sure “we” doesn’t creep back in. For some, it is easier than for others, as they are used to it, while for others, it is more of a struggle, but it is worth it. There is nothing quite like knowing that everything in your head belongs to you because you thought it through, you looked at everything in there and asked, Is that true? Do I think that? Then taking what is in your head because you wanted to, making something you wanted to make, and it comes out the way you wanted it to or at least, in the event of failure, knowing, having the joy of figuring out what exactly went wrong and correcting the mistake.
For instance, I’ll edit this with every tool at my disposal, not to outsource thought, but to refine expression, because the “I” doesn’t fear precision, it demands it, just as an atomic physicist uses an electron microscope to study atoms.
The Monument to “I”
Make no mistake: we live in a world of borrowed slogans, unexamined premises, and paper-thin identities shaped by the accident of birth or the inertia of indoctrination. They speak in terms of “we”; I prefer to say “I”. One day, I will build a monument to that fact, not to boast, but to mark the divide between those who never left the “we” and those who dared to imagine what it means to truly live. The “I” I champion rejects all forms of collectivism and imposed group identity. The struggle is to protect the sovereignty of the individual mind from being dissolved into a collective will.