“We dress our wounds in silence and laugh to survive.”
Everyday,we wake up and wear our masks. Not the kind that protects us from the air, but the kind that hides the airless void within. People walk by with smiles so convincing you'd never guess they cried themselves to sleep the night before.It's become a skill-perfecting the art of appearing okay. We dress well, speak well, pose well, yet deep down, we're aching for someone to truly see us. Behind every "I'm fine" is a story untold, a scream muted, a heart battling a war no one knows about.
Societyworships the polished. So we shine our shoes, powder our faces, straighten our backs and suffer in silence.Pain is unfashionable. Vulnerability is weakness. So we suppress and survive, even when our souls beg for help. We take selfies, go to parties, dance, and laugh... but it’s often performance, a play we rehearse just to fit in, to avoid the dreaded question: "What's wrong with you?"
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Aroundus,towers rise while shanties rot. The rich feed off the silence of the poor. Systems are built to keep the poor crawling and the rich ascending. Luxury is no longer a dream, it’s a weapon. A way to blind and distract. Injustice hides in plain sight, disguised as "class". The law bends differently depending on your account balance. For the poor, prison. For the rich, press conferences.
Thechurches are filled. Mosques are crowded. People pray for breakthrough, for healing, for wealth. But faith without effort is futility. We chant and cry, but forget to act. Hope becomes an escape rather than a compass.Religion has become a routine, not a revolution. We wait for miracles while ignoring the little miracles in hard work and unity.
Peopleare forced into paths they never chose. Some sell their bodies, some scam, some work in places that kill their dreams slowly.We judge them. Call them names. But if hunger were a person, would you still keep your pride? Survival has made many forget who they are. This world punishes you for being honest and rewards manipulation. Is this really life? Or are we all just surviving episodes of pain with occasional joy?
Whocreated the rules? Why do some get all the chances, and others live and die unknown? Is there justice? Or have we been told stories to make us sleep better at night? They say “Work hard and you’ll succeed” but some work till their bones break and still have nothing. This world... it’s like a game with hidden levels only the privileged can play.
Whatif... just what if... the world could reset? Could we start over and make it fair? Would equality even be possible? Or has the imbalance become a permanent code in the system? These questions might never be answered, but they must be asked. For if no one questions the pain, the pain becomes normal. And the truth? We weren’t born to survive-we were born to live.