13 Sad Signs Your Friendships Are All Superficial
Not all friendships are created equal. Some nourish your soul, while others barely scratch the surface. If you constantly feel emotionally underfed after hanging out with friends—or like you're playing a role just to stay included—you may be stuck in a loop of shallow, surface-level relationships.
Superficial friendships can look perfectly fine from the outside. But underneath the brunches, group chats, and birthday texts, there's a quiet lack of depth, vulnerability, and mutual investment. These are the subtler signs your social life may need a reset.
You catch yourself rehearsing what to say, avoiding certain topics, or holding back your real thoughts out of fear it'll be 'too much.' Instead of feeling seen, you feel curated. The version of you they know is safe—but not real. Betterhelp highlights how authenticity is key to healthy relationships. If authenticity feels risky, the connection isn't real intimacy
Over time, it's exhausting to be liked for your costume. That's not friendship—it's performance.Step into your power, be who you, resist the urge to edit or shrink yourself, people will either like you or not.
You know what they post, what they wore last weekend, and maybe even what they're bingeing on Netflix—but not what keeps them up at night. Their pain, fears, or emotional struggles never come up. It's all vibe, no vulnerability. As Psychology Today notes, sharing deeper thoughts and feelings is a hallmark of meaningful friendships. True friends ask deeper questions.
When conversation stays in safe zones forever, it's a red flag. People can hang out for years and still know nothing real about each other. A true friend will want to dig deeper and know the real you, in all your messy glory.
Spending time together doesn't fill your cup—it depletes it. Instead of feeling uplifted, you feel more tired, small, or emotionally off afterward. That's not your overthinking—it's your nervous system noticing a mismatch.Real friendships leave you more at ease with yourself, not less.
Emotional hangovers are a sign something isn't aligned. Chemistry without depth doesn't nourish. If you feel uneasy after being with people, perhaps they are not your people.
You initiate the texts, the plans, the check-ins. If you stopped trying, you suspect the relationship would fade completely. That lopsided effort can feel invisible—and lonely. As Psychology Today points out, healthy friendships are built on mutual effort and reciprocity. Friendship should feel mutual, not transactional.
If you're carrying all the weight, it's not a bond—it's a convenience. Connection requires effort and reciprocity. If it's one-sided perhaps they aren't your true friend.
You bite your tongue when you're hurt or confused. You don't share your real feelings because you know they'll ghost, deflect, or downplay it. The friendship feels too fragile to hold discomfort.That's not friendship—that's emotional tiptoeing.
True connection can handle difficult truths. If the price of honesty is silence, you're in a shallow space. Friends should be able to share your wins and your loses without judgement.
You hype them up, share their wins, and cheer them on—but when it's your turn, their support feels muted or performative. There's a subtle envy, detachment, or indifference that kills the vibe. They can't hold space for your joy.Superficial friends feel competitive, not collaborative.
Their energy reveals more than their words. A little healthy competition is OK and you should inspire each other to be the best versions of yourselves. If your light makes them dim, they're not your people.
Your conversations orbit around everything but their actual emotions. You know about their boss and their brunch plans—but not their beliefs, wounds, or what they're healing from. It's all surface, no soul.Depth isn't just about trauma dumping—it's about emotional honesty.
If you've never heard them say 'I feel lost,' 'I'm afraid,' or 'I'm growing,' they're likely holding back. Or they don't trust you or themselves, to go there. Vulnerability is a strength, not a weakness and when someone opens up the connection deepens.
They show up when it's fun or social media-worthy, but disappear when life gets messy. Crisis, heartbreak, illness? Radio silence. Their presence is performance-based.Superficial friendships can't hold grief, confusion, or real life.
If they vanish when the sparkle fades, they were never really in it. Hard times reveal what soft friendships can't carry. Real friends step in and step up and always help you carry the load.
If bonding means trashing someone else, it's not connection—it's a coping mechanism. Conversations that center on drama, judgment, or negativity leave no room for mutual growth. There's more shade than support.Gossip can feel like intimacy—but it's counterfeit closeness.
When you remove the shared disdain, what's left? Often, not much. Gossiping about others or feeling the need to bring others down is also the sign of an insecure or vindictive person—steer clear.
It's all memes, logistics, events, or complaints—but no real reflection. You rarely talk about purpose, growth, or what you're navigating emotionally. The friendship is stuck on repeat. Without emotional expansion, friendship becomes routine.
You're not growing together—you're just existing nearby. That's not soul connection—it's social stagnation. It's depth that makes friendships feel authentic and meaningful.
You notice subtle micro-dismissals: eye rolls, minimizing comments, quick subject changes. When you open up, they move on quickly—or make it about themselves. Your experiences don't seem to land.Being in a room with people who don't truly see you is a unique kind of loneliness.
Toleration is not affection. Real friends witness you fully—even when it's inconvenient.If anyone makes you feel less than, it says more about them, than you. Choose your circle wisely.
Humor is their shield. Whenever a serious moment starts to land, they pivot to sarcasm, distraction, or 'just kidding.' Emotional discomfort is always deflected with levity.Jokes can build rapport—but overused, they create distance.
If everything is a punchline, nothing becomes sacred. And sacred space is where true friendship lives. Hiding behind humor is usually a trauma response or defense mechanism that shows someone lacks emotional depth or intelligence.
You sense it deep down. You're always the backup plan, the extra invite, the one who fits only when someone else cancels. You feel peripheral in the group, not foundational.Real friendship feels like home—not a favor.
If you always feel like an afterthought, it's time to rethink what you're calling connection. True friends make time for each other and go out of their way to invest and make sure you feel valued.

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USA Today
6 hours ago
- USA Today
Who died in the OceanGate Titan submersible disaster? A look at the victims
Who died in the OceanGate Titan submersible disaster? A look at the victims OceanGate, in a statement at the time, had described the victims as "true explorers who shared a distinct spirit of adventure, and a deep passion for exploring and protecting the world's oceans." Show Caption Hide Caption Newly released footage captures sound of Titan submersible imploding Newly released video appeared to capture the sound of the Titan submersible imploding on its way to visit the Titanic wreck in June 2023. On the second anniversary of the ill-fated Titan submersible, the tragic incident is back in the spotlight, courtesy of a Netflix documentary that takes an in-depth look at the implosion that left five men dead. "Titan: The OceanGate Disaster" dropped on Netflix on June 11, just seven days before the two-year marker, and it "examines OceanGate CEO Stockton Rush, his quest to become the next billionaire innovator and the doomed underwater endeavor that forced the world to reconsider the price of ambition in the depths of the ocean," according to the new feature-length documentary's synopsis. The Titanic-visiting vehicle imploded two miles below sea level on June 18, 2023, about one hour and 45 minutes into the voyage. Its wreckage was found on the ocean floor about 330 yards off the bow of the Titanic. All five people aboard were killed. The Coast Guard is still investigating the cause of the implosion and is expected to release a final report. A series of hearings were held in 2024 as part of the investigation, and a lawsuit has been filed by the family of French maritime and Titanic expert, Paul-Henri Nargeolet, claiming all five passengers probably experienced "terror and anguish" in their final moments. OceanGate, in a statement at the time, had described the victims as "true explorers who shared a distinct spirit of adventure, and a deep passion for exploring and protecting the world's oceans." As the Netflix documentary premieres, here's what to know about the victims of the submersible. Stockton Rush Stockton Rush, 61, was the CEO of OceanGate, which he founded in 2009 and oversaw financial and engineering strategies, according to the company's website, which was taken down in the wake of the fatal implosion, USA TODAY previously reported. Rush was the pilot of the Titan submersible at the time of the disaster. He was also the co-founder of OceanGate Foundation, a non-profit organization, "which aims to catalyze emerging marine technology to further discoveries in marine science, history, and archaeology," according to the company's website. Rush, who held degrees from Princeton University and the University of California, Berkeley, had an adventurous spirit, per his obituary in the New York Times. He also told Fast Company in 2017 that he "wanted to be the first person on Mars.' Rush was a member of a prominent family in San Francisco and a descendant of two signers of the Declaration of Independence, according to SFGate. The outlet reported that he was working as an aerospace engineer for McDonnell Douglas when he married his wife, Wendy, in 1986. His wife is the descendant of retailing magnate Isidor Straus and his wife, Ida, two of the wealthiest people to die aboard the Titanic, according to the New York Times. Who was Stockton Rush? OceanGate CEO focus of Titan implosion documentary Hamish Harding Hamish Harding, a British billionaire explorer who was chairman of Action Aviation, a global sales company in business aviation. Harding, 58, was a flying enthusiast who had been to space and held three Guinness World Records related to his explorations by plane and into the deep ocean. Harding's family, in a statement, described him as a dedicated father of two and a 'living legend' who loved to explore and push the boundaries of what was possible. The businessman also went on many adventures with his son, Giles, who at 12 became the youngest person to make a trip to the South Pole. Harding is survived by his wife, Linda Harding, with whom he had four children, according to The Independent. Paul-Henry Nargeolet Paul-Henry Nargeolet, 77, a French maritime and Titanic expert, was director of Underwater Research for E/M Group and RMS Titanic, Inc. He successfully dived in a submersible to the site of the Titanic wreckage 37 times and "supervised the recovery of 5,000 artifacts," according to EMGroup's website, which also says he's "widely considered the leading authority on the wreck site." A French Navy veteran who served as a submarine pilot, mine-clearing diver and deep-sea diver, Nargeolet is survived by his wife, Anne Sarraz-Bournet; two daughters, a son, a stepson and four grandsons, according to his New York Times obituary. His wife, Michele Marsh, an Emmy Award-winning newscaster in New York, died in 2017 of complications from breast cancer, per the outlet. Shahzada Dawood Shahzada Dawood, 48, hailed from one of Pakistan's wealthiest families and served on the board of trustees for the Dawood Foundation, an education nonprofit based in Pakistan, according to the World Economic Forum. He was also on the board of the SETI Institute, a non-profit research organization, as well as serving as vice chairman on the board of Pakistani Engro Corporation. Dawood is survived by a daughter, Alina, and his wife, Christine. Suleman Dawood Shahzada Dawood's son, Suleman Dawood, 19, loved science fiction, solving Rubik's Cubes and playing volleyball, the New York Times reported. He was a business student at the University of Strathclyde in Glasgow and had planned to join his father in working for Engro after graduating from college, his obituary read, per 'The relationship between Shahzada and Suleman was a joy to behold; they were each other's greatest supporters and cherished a shared passion for adventure and exploration of all the world had to offer them,' the Dawood family said in a statement, per the New York Times. Contributing: Jeanine Santucci, Isabelle Butera, Javier Zarracina, Janet Loehrke, Grace Hauck, Kayla Jimenez / USA TODAY Saman Shafiq is a trending news reporter for USA TODAY. Reach her at sshafiq@ and follow her on X and Instagram @saman_shafiq7.
Yahoo
10 hours ago
- Yahoo
Why Your Marriage Feels More Like A Business Arrangement
Marriage isn't supposed to feel like a corporate merger. But for many couples, the emotional glue quietly dissolves over time—replaced by calendars, checklists, and polite efficiency. You might still be functioning as a team, yet something vital is missing: warmth, depth, connection. What was once effortless now feels rehearsed. You're living in the same house, but it feels like you're running a household, not nurturing a bond. When your marriage starts to feel like you're co-managing a brand rather than living a love story, it's a sign something deeper needs your attention. These subtle, surprising behaviors may seem harmless—but they reveal a relationship running on autopilot. What looks like 'stability' might be emotional flatlining. If any of these sound familiar, it might be time to reawaken the emotional core of your connection. Love doesn't die from big explosions—it fades through quiet disconnection. If most of your conversations revolve around mortgages, car payments, or utilities, you may be co-managing a life instead of sharing one emotionally. Emotional intimacy gets pushed to the side when logistical talk dominates the day-to-day. It's easy to mistake functionality for connection, especially when everything is 'running smoothly.' As Psychology Today highlights, emotional connection is what truly makes a marriage feel meaningful and fulfilling—not just shared responsibilities. A couple can run like clockwork and still feel emotionally bankrupt. But love isn't just about efficiency—it's about being emotionally seen. When the heart of your relationship is a shared Google Calendar and not shared vulnerability, the emotional glue starts to weaken. It's not the absence of conflict that signals trouble—it's the absence of depth. When you stop checking in emotionally, you stop growing together. Functional doesn't equal fulfilling, and smooth doesn't mean close. When even your private moments feel penciled into a planner, spontaneity is gone. You're no longer lovers—you're logistical coordinators trying to make time 'fit.' The spark fizzles fast when it starts to feel like one more item on the to-do list. What used to be electric now feels obligatory. Desire doesn't thrive on deadlines. This isn't just about sex—it's about affection becoming transactional. When intimacy feels like a chore instead of a craving, it stops nourishing your relationship. Love thrives in unplanned connection, not calendar alerts. When everything has to be scheduled, nothing feels special. If you're clocking in for romance, you're missing the point. One person does the cooking, the other handles the taxes, and it's all fair—but robotic. While equality is healthy, this rigid division can start to feel like roles at a company, not roles in a relationship. There's little fluidity, no crossover, no playful spontaneity. As Research Gate notes, how partners perceive the fairness of task division can be even more important than the actual split. Flexibility helps keep the relationship vibrant and emotionally alive. When the partnership feels more like a well-oiled machine than a living, breathing bond, something's off. You become efficient housemates instead of emotionally attuned companions. When roles become scripts, intimacy fades. And efficiency isn't intimacy—it's just logistics. Love needs more than a spreadsheet to stay alive. Conflict is uncomfortable, but avoidance creates even more distance. If you steer clear of hard conversations because 'things are easier that way,' you're prioritizing calm over closeness. Business partners avoid tension for productivity—couples need to work through it. When you skip emotional conversations, resentment grows in the silence. Peace without depth is just quiet disconnection. Repressing emotion creates walls, not harmony. Over time, what you don't say becomes the biggest thing between you. Emotional safety doesn't mean avoiding discomfort—it means building trust through it. The relationship becomes sterile when you avoid getting real. And peace at the cost of connection isn't peace at all. You stay because you made a commitment, not because you're still emotionally engaged. Duty and routine take over where passion used to live. Like clocking into a job, you show up out of responsibility—not desire. What began as love now feels like a checklist. You're present, but your heart's not in it. But marriage should never feel like a contract you're afraid to break. Commitment without emotional connection becomes emotional abandonment. When love becomes an obligation, it loses its vitality. Staying together shouldn't feel like staying compliant. It should feel like choosing each other over and over again. You both show up smiling at events, playing the part of a happy couple. Behind closed doors, the connection is shallow or strained. You protect the image, not the relationship. It's easier to perform than to repair. The performance becomes the priority, and the truth gets buried. This is what corporate branding looks like—not love. A business arrangement needs reputation control; a real relationship needs truth. When your public life thrives while your private bond starves, you're losing something essential. The more energy you spend performing, the less you have to repair what's real. Appearances can't replace intimacy. You might know their schedule but not their emotional state. You check in on logistics, not well-being. Questions that probe feelings feel intrusive or unnecessary. As Psychology Today points out, emotional intimacy thrives on curiosity, validation, and support—not just logistical coordination. Knowing what they feel matters more than knowing where they'll be. But emotional curiosity is the heartbeat of intimacy. Without it, you're simply managing a life together—not experiencing it side by side. Love grows when you ask deeper questions and listen without fixing. If the emotional layer disappears, so does the romance. Caring isn't just about action—it's about attention. You consider the marriage 'successful' because you haven't divorced, not because you're deeply fulfilled. You equate stability with satisfaction. It's more about what hasn't gone wrong than what's actually going right. You pride yourselves on staying together through anything—even if that 'anything' includes growing emotionally distant. But longevity doesn't equal intimacy. Staying isn't enough if you're no longer connecting. A house can stand tall while the foundation crumbles. Success in marriage should be measured by emotional quality, not just time logged. If you're not feeling loved, supported, and seen, are you really succeeding? Don't mistake endurance for happiness—it's not the same thing. You're good at solving problems together and making life work—but where's the magic? You're teammates on a life project, not romantic partners chasing wonder or meaning. The passion has faded into utility. What used to feel magnetic now feels procedural. You're productive, but not passionate. Teammates don't necessarily need emotional depth—they need efficiency. But couples do. A marriage without romance is just a collaboration. If you're not growing emotionally, you're just executing tasks together. Love should feel like connection, not coordination. You may know the surface-level details, but the deep stuff? That's kept private. You process your feelings alone or with friends, not with each other. Vulnerability has quietly exited the relationship. You stop sharing not because you don't care—but because it feels foreign now. Marriages need shared emotional landscapes. If you're emotionally single inside your marriage, the bond erodes over time. You become strangers under the same roof. Even love can't survive without emotional visibility. You end up feeling lonelier than if you were actually alone. Arguments feel like negotiations, not expressions of emotional truth. You're both careful, composed, and overly diplomatic to avoid fallout. It's like filing a report instead of having a fight. You're more focused on resolution than revelation. The conflict becomes technical, not transformational. But healthy relationships need messiness and vulnerability. Real connection happens when you're brave enough to be raw. If your conflict style feels more like mediation than honesty, you're managing—not connecting. Love isn't always tidy—and that's okay. Intimacy demands authenticity, even when it's uncomfortable. Laughter is intimacy's oxygen. When it disappears, so does play, spontaneity, and joy. Everything becomes serious, structured, and heavy. You go through the motions, but the lightness is gone. Humor used to be part of your love language—now it feels foreign. A business arrangement doesn't need laughter—it needs compliance. But couples need levity to survive the hard stuff. If you're not laughing together, you're emotionally starving. Joy builds connection even when life feels chaotic. Don't let the business of life steal your shared delight. You see couples who bicker, cry, make up, and adore each other with reckless affection—and you feel a strange pang of longing. Their relationship may look chaotic, but it's alive. Yours feels steady but sterile. You've mastered peace but lost passion. The messiness you once feared now feels like something you're missing. That envy is a red flag. You're craving intensity, depth, and feeling. Predictability is no substitute for intimacy. Don't ignore what your heart is quietly missing. The longing you feel is pointing you toward reconnection.
Yahoo
a day ago
- Yahoo
‘Absolutely shocking': Netflix documentary examines how the Titan sub disaster happened
If you were sentient in the summer of 2023, you probably remember the feverish speculation, vicarious horror, snap consternation and armchair sleuthing after the disappearance of the submersible called Titan during a commercial voyage to the wreck of the Titanic. The Titan sub disaster was inescapable for weeks as the story evolved from critical rescue mission – the best-case scenario being a mechanical failure deep in the North Atlantic with 96 hours of oxygen for the five passengers, which you better believe became a countdown clock on cable news – to tragic recovery operation. Related: 'Incredibly disturbing': docuseries goes inside jaw-dropping LA mortuary scandal The sub, it turned out, had imploded at 3,300 meters beneath the surface, 90 minutes into a dive that was supposed to reach 3,800 meters deep. All five passengers – British explorer Hamish Harding, British-Pakistani businessman Shahzada Dawood and his 19-year-old son Suleman, French diver Paul-Henri Nargeolet and submersible owner Stockton Rush – were killed instantly. Even as the search for the sub, whose wreckage was eventually returned to land, continued in earnest, concerning reports about the safety record at OceanGate, the company which operated the vehicle, began to emerge: that a whistleblower had declared implosion of the sub's trademark carbon fiber hull a mathematical certainty years earlier. That Rush, the company's founder and CEO, pursued commercial voyages anyway, eluding any type of third-party certification. For the majority of the public, the story ended along those lines: a preventable tragedy, another sin of human hubris at arguably the most famous shrine to the folly of human hubris in history. That is not wrong; according to the new Netflix documentary Titan: The OceanGate Disaster, the sub's implosion was virtually guaranteed by its design. 'I'm convinced, based on the research and the discussions that I've had, that the submersible Titan could have imploded at any time,' said the film's director, Mark Monroe. In fact, it was 'absolutely shocking' that Titan made as many successful dives – 80 attempts, 13 to Titanic depth, between 2021 and 2022 – as it did. But for those who either worked at OceanGate, were tasked with the investigation or loved someone lost on board, the story is much more complicated, and concerning, than a design flaw. Another film would proceed through an exact timeline of Titan's final mission on 18 June, 2023; include footage of the wreckage or diagrams of its descent coordinated to text messages sent to its surface-level team; play the audio of its implosion, recorded 900 miles away by a National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration device; or allow viewers to see Rush's wife Wendy hear the implosion, whose sound reached its support ship, Polar Prince, before their last text message, allowing them to mistakenly assume the sub was fine. The Netflix film, made by the veteran production company Story Syndicate, doesn't do any of that, eschewing a Seconds from Disaster-type narrative and instead focusing on the nearly decade-long procession toward disaster, through numerous decisions prizing flashy ambition over safety. 'It's scarier, in a way, to understand the decision-making over the 10-year period that led to that moment,' said Monroe. 'I feel pretty strongly if the civilians' – the paying customers OceanGate called 'mission specialists' to skirt around commercial maritime safety regulations – 'had seen the decisions made along the way, they would have been a lot more reticent to get into that submersible. And I think that was not clear, or made clear, to the public.' With access to company footage, data, files and several former employees and whistleblowers, the 111-minute documentary paints a fuller picture of a company with idealistic ambition and plenty of scientific backing – at least at first. Founded outside Seattle in 2009 by Rush, an entrepreneur with a rich family and an engineering degree, OceanGate attracted talent from the fields of engineering, diving and marine exploration with its ambition to revolutionize deep sea travel for the masses. The question of how to make deep subs, usually made of very heavy titanium steel, lighter and nimbler – and thus commercially viable – was an appealing puzzle to an array of scientists, deep-sea divers and exploration enthusiasts. It's what drew David Lochridge, a highly experienced submersible pilot, to uproot his family and move to Everett, Washington, to become OceanGate's operations director. In the film, Lochridge explains that he didn't initially understand, on a technical level, OceanGate's answer to the lightweight, deep-sea sub conundrum: carbon fiber, a lightweight but high-strength composite material of tightly pack carbon threads cemented with resin, used in everything from sports cars to deluxe skis. But in time, the material's problems became clear. For one, carbon fiber had never been tested at extreme depths, and thus had no reliable safety record. And two, its integrity naturally degrades with repeated use. 'There is a fatigue aspect to carbon fiber – once you use it, it won't be as good the next time you use it, by increments,' Monroe explained. The documentary includes ample footage from OceanGate's years-long test phase, as various carbon fiber designs failed in experiments simulating high pressure. Nevertheless, Rush persisted, dismissing safety concerns from engineers on staff and continuing to insist to credulous media that commercial ventures to the Titanic were soon within reach. Lochridge and others attest to Rush's hardheaded approach, at times openly hostile to any intra-company dissent. He openly admired Jeff Bezos and Elon Musk, expressing a desire to, as one employee recalled, be a 'big swinging dick'. In that vein, Rush claimed to be working with Boeing, Nasa and the University of Washington, though no formal partnerships existed. (In fact, a Boeing engineer involved in Titan's early designs emailed Rush in March 2012: 'We think you are at high risk of a significant failure at or before you reach 4,000 meters. We do not think you have any safety margin.') Rush also elected to withhold any OceanGate craft from third-party safety inspections, the industry standard for submersibles. That decision proved to be a breaking point for several employees; Lochridge was fired after he inspected Titan himself, and said in a written report to Rush that he had no confidence in the submersible. The documentary includes remarkable audio of a 2018 senior staff meeting in which Rush fires Lochridge and quashes his concerns as a discrepancy of vision – 'I don't want anybody in this company who is uncomfortable with what we're doing. We're doing weird shit here and I am definitely out of the mold. There's no question. I am doing things that are completely non-standard.' 'There is a danger in the kind of cult of personality, particularly the tech bro, 'move fast and break things,'' Monroe said. 'When other people's lives are in the balance, I think we should all take a step back and be careful about that. It's one thing to put unmanned spacecraft into space, but you're taking money to provide an expedition.' One has to wonder, given all the dissent, given the fact that the sub would produce loud cracking sounds with each descent (which Rush called, unscientifically, the carbon fiber 'seasoning' with use) – did the CEO actually believe it was safe? 'I'm not in Stockton's mind, so I don't know,' said Monroe. But he took into account Rush's public personality as a maverick, the media tailwinds in his favor. 'When you say you're going to go to Titanic in a new submersible that no one's ever done before, and the sound of your own voice resonates year after year while you're trying to figure out how to do it, I think there's a pressure that builds, that suggests 'I have to do this.'' What is clear, from numerous interviews, was that 'if you went against the boss, there were going to be repercussions.' Lochridge knows this well; after he filed a whistleblower complaint with the US Occupational Safety and Health Administration (Osha), OceanGate sued him for improperly disclosing confidential information to regulators. The legal costs, and Osha's protracted investigation, forced him to withdraw his complaint, ending what could have been the one regulatory oversight on the company. OceanGate continued apace; the film lingers only briefly on the dive in 2022 which seemed to damage the sub, even according to the company's own 'real-time monitoring system'. Titan imploded on its next dive to Titanic depths a year later, after several aborted attempts due to inclement weather. Though the 'delamination' of the carbon fiber hull is the presumed cause, the US Coast Guard's official written report, including recommendations for the prevention of a similar tragedy, has yet to be publicly released. 'I don't know what those recommendations could be,' said Monroe, 'but you would think they would have to do with how to run an experimental submersible when offering it to the public.' Such as, perhaps, oversight, or a healthier sense of skepticism when the only safety assurances come from the company itself. Rush 'believed in the ethos of move fast and break things. Rules don't apply when you want to change the way things work,' said Monroe. 'That's dangerous when other people's lives are at stake. There are certain rules that do apply, like the rules of physics, the rules of science – these rules do apply to all of us.' Titan: The OceanGate Disaster is now available on Netflix