We wake up already behind. Eyes half-open, we scroll through a feed that makes us feel ugly, poor, and late to everything. We swallow coffee like medicine, show up to jobs we don’t care about, perform tasks no one will remember, breathe in air that tastes like exhaust, and somehow call this ‘normal.’
Welcome to Earth, 2025. A spinning rock powered by Wars, Wi-Fi , collective burnout and broken economies. Where we’re all supposed to smile, hustle, and pretend this is fine.
Can Someone Please Turn It Off?
We live in a world where silence feels illegal. Pings, dings, likes, shares, breaking news, breaking hearts—it’s endless. Our brains weren’t designed for this much noise. Every scroll chips away at our attention span, our sanity, our ability to just be.
Try logging off, and suddenly you’re irrelevant. Try unplugging, and people ask if you’re okay. The algorithm replaced the neighborhood, but it doesn’t ask how you are—it just wants to know what keeps you addicted.
Tired is the New Normal
Somewhere along the way, rest became suspicious. If you’re not grinding, you’re falling behind. Capitalism taught us to monetize our hobbies, track our sleep, and brand our personalities. We’re human beings turned into human doings.
Productivity is the new religion, burnout the new baptism. Everyone’s exhausted, but no one wants to admit it out loud because rest doesn’t pay the bills—and worse, it looks lazy on LinkedIn.
Earth is on Fire (But Hey, Nice Selfie)
Meanwhile, outside our filtered lives, the world is literally burning. Floods, fires, rising seas, wars —Mother Nature’s on full meltdown mode. We’re told to go vegan and recycle while billion-dollar companies pollute entire ecosystems with impunity.
It’s not that we don’t care. It’s that caring hurts. We’re overwhelmed, numbed out, frozen between guilt and helplessness. The apocalypse has become just another trending topic.
Together, Alone
Loneliness is now a side effect of everything. We have more ways to connect and less real connection. Friends become followers, communities become comments, and conversation becomes content.
We’re divided by design—fed different realities by different algorithms. Suspicion is profitable. Outrage is viral. Unity? Too boring for the feed.
Progress with a Price Tag
We were promised a better world through tech. What we got was digital dopamine, facial recognition anxiety, and kids who ask Siri more questions than their parents.
Sure, AI writes poetry now—but can anyone still feel something? We’ve got infinite scroll, but no direction. Hyper-efficiency, but zero intimacy. We’re advancing, but are we okay?
Let’s be real—this isn’t working for the majority of us
Life shouldn’t feel like a survival game with push notifications constantly paying bills. The unbearable part isn’t that things are broken—it’s that we keep pretending they’re not.
So what if we stopped pretending?
What if we dropped the performance and said, “This version of life? No thanks.” What if we unplugged, even for a moment, and dared to imagine something softer, slower, more human for everyone?
Not a utopia. Just a world where breathing and existing isn’t a luxury for the few.
A world where we remember we were never meant to live like this.
And maybe—just maybe—that’s where everything begins to change.
