Zuraen
The society has always mentioned that the human mind is a strange thing.
We like to think we own it, that it’s ours to shape but from the moment we’re born, someone else is already drawing on it. Parents, teachers, culture, society, pain. All of it gets scribbled in before we even know how to hold the pen. The race starts early, “Be smart,” “Be good,” “Be better than the rest.”
And we run. God, we run hard.
Trying to live up to things we never agreed to and somewhere along the way, we forget what rest even feels like. Life becomes a checklist, and when we finally realize it? We’re already deep in the maze. Exhausted, scared, unsure how to stop.
The System: Success or Survival?
Society has always told us that success is everything.
Get the grades, the job, the house, the life. But no one tells you what happens when you stumble. When you fail that test, lose that job, miss the mark. There’s no safety net. Just judgment. Pressure. That awful silence that creeps in when you’re not producing anymore.
So people look for a way out. Not because they’re weak. But because they’re human.
Why Drugs Make So Much Sense (Until They Don’t)
It always starts small. A drink. A joint. A pill. Just enough to quiet the noise. Just enough to feel something. Because when life feels like a cage, even a little high feels like freedom.
And our brains? They don’t just like that feeling, they crave it.
Dopamine floods the system, and the brain learns fast: “This makes me feel okay.”
But the more we lean on it, the more our brains forget how to feel good on their own.
No drug? No dopamine.
No dopamine? Nothing feels worth it. Life becomes grey. Food doesn’t taste right. Music sounds empty. Everything becomes just…dull.
And when people get desperate to feel anything again? That’s when things spiral.
Stealing. Lying. Hurting people. Not because they’re evil. But because they’re drowning.
The Other Route: Psychiatry
For those who don’t use drugs, there’s another escape route, doctors.
SSRIs. Benzos. Antipsychotics. Pills to take the edge off. Pills to sleep. Pills to wake up.
And yeah, they can help. They do help. I’ve seen it.
But they don’t heal. Not really. They don’t fix the fact that your parents never said they were proud of you. They don’t undo years of pretending you’re okay when you’re falling apart. They don’t sit next to you in the middle of the night when your thoughts turn dark.
Instead, you take the meds and try to keep going.
Until the dose doesn’t work anymore.
Until you’re not sure who you are without them.
And then you realize you’re not recovering, you’re just dependent.
Society punishes the Wrong People
Here’s the part that breaks me:
Society looks at addicts, the mentally ill, the lost and the broken, and it turns its back.
It calls them unstable. Dangerous. A problem to be hidden.
But what about the people who made them that way?
The companies selling pain relief like candy?
The politicians funded by pharmaceutical giants?
The education system that teaches obedience, but not how to cope with grief or failure?
The parents who gave everything except love?
They never take the fall.
They’re too clean, too rich, too “respectable” to blame.
The Guilty Wear Suits. The Victims Wear Scars.
Addiction isn’t weakness. Depression isn’t failure.
They are symptoms of a world that’s forgotten how to care.
We’ve built a system that crushes the spirit, rewards the cold, and medicates the rest into silence.
And when someone breaks down? We blame them. Not the factory that fed them lies. Not the media that sold them dreams. Not the life that demanded too much and gave too little.
We point fingers at the wounded.
And never at the ones holding the knife.
Conclusion
I don’t have the answers.
But I know this: people don’t wake up wanting to destroy themselves.
They wake up wanting peace, connection, a reason to stay.
And when they don’t find it, they reach for whatever feels close.
What if, instead of judgment, we as a society gave them a hand?
What if we looked at pain with compassion instead of suspicion?
Maybe then, we’d stop losing people to silence.
Maybe then, the rat race wouldn’t feel so lonely.
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