November 7, 2025
I think about this more than I should. Somewhere in ancient history, a caveman probably spent all night staring at his freshly painted bison, thinking, “Ugh, Grog’s handprints look way more artistic.” And that was the birth of insecurity.
Maybe that’s when humanity’s overthinking gene first mutated, right there in a smoky cave, while someone second-guessed their color choices in crushed ochre. They weren’t comparing likes or followers, but they were still comparing. It’s kind of comforting, in a “we’ve always been this way” sort of way.
Fast forward a few thousand years and here we are, still lying awake, still wondering what the other “caves” think. Only now the cave walls are social media feeds, and our prehistoric stick figures are filtered selfies, tweets, and blog posts like this one.
We still want approval. We still want connection. We still want someone to walk past our cave wall, tilt their head, and say, “Hey, that’s actually pretty good.”
The irony is that cavemen didn’t have time for perfectionism. They painted because it meant something. It was spiritual, instinctual, necessary. Their art wasn’t curated, it was expression in its rawest form. They didn’t think, “Should I post this?” They just did it.
Sometimes I wish we could get back to that. To make things because we need to, not because we hope they’ll be well received. To write something that doesn’t need applause. To live a little more like the guy who drew on the wall because it helped him feel less alone in the dark.
If we’re honest, our brains are still wired for the campfire, not the comment section. We evolved faster than our emotions could adapt. So maybe the real progress isn’t making better art, it’s learning to care a little less about who sees it.
So yes, I think cavemen worried. But I also think they painted anyway.
And maybe that’s the point.
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💬 Your Turn
So… do you think cavemen ever lay awake worrying about what the other cave thought of their cave art?
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