We were once just kids, messing around, not giving a damn about money or purpose. Then one day, we were shown the bigger world—the people making serious cash, the ones who made history, the ones who actually mattered. That lit a fire in us, and suddenly the kid couldn’t wait to grow up and do big things. From then on, we started planning our lives like life needed to be mapped out. But for what? To be rich and successful, says the ego. But what if you end up broke and miserable—would you hate yourself? Could you still love yourself in poverty, the way you do when you hit the gym? And imagine chasing all this just to die halfway through the grind. 

Why do people look down on homeless folks or junkies? Because they’re scared they might end up like that. The same way we learn to dress ourselves, we grow up carrying society’s bullshit standards like life ever asked us to. People feel like they need purpose so badly because they can’t handle living a pointless life.

And so, being ugly and broke becomes a curse. People with trauma find so much strength in their sadness, thinking they’ve got some higher calling just because they’ve suffered—like the world gives a damn. The ones who were left behind as kids now feel they need to help others like them, but really it’s all because they still see themselves as victims—as if the world cares.

People always try to hold onto something to feel better or be better, but really it’s all bullshit, just fantasies. But sure, call me a bitch with no feelings. I see babies being born with no labels, no pressures, no need to be pretty or successful, and that’s why they seem so free. They run around having fun, no clothes, no worries, and of course they’re happier than us. Yet people keep trying to be important or great, like life ever gave a damn.