We're told that if we work hard, we'll succeed. But the system isn't designed for people like us. It's designed to keep us where we are—struggling, desperate, and too exhausted to fight back.
Education promises opportunity but delivers debt. Jobs promise security but deliver exploitation. The government promises protection but delivers neglect. Every institution that was supposed to lift us up has become another weight pulling us down.
Where are the leaders when we need them? They speak in empty promises and photo opportunities. They see our suffering as statistics, our lives as political talking points. They ask for our votes but never our stories.
Mental health crisis? They talk about awareness. Poverty? They blame the poor. Unemployment? They cite numbers while we cite empty stomachs. They are insulated from our reality, comfortable in their ignorance.
Behind every statistic is a person. Behind every percentage is a life. Behind every report is someone's child, someone's friend, someone's future—erased, ignored, forgotten.
The greatest tragedy isn't that we're suffering. It's that everyone knows and nobody cares. People walk past homeless youth. They scroll past stories of suicide. They change the channel when they hear about another overdose.
We've normalized pain. We've normalized struggle. We've normalized watching an entire generation drown while we debate whether they deserve a life raft.