Lights. Camera. Chaos.
If Earth had a playbill, the headline would read: "Drama, Trauma & Dysfunction – Now Showing, indefinitely."
Because let’s be real—this world thrives on the spectacle of someone else’s pain.
We’ve built an entire culture around watching people fall apart. And not in the “let’s support them and help them get back up” kind of way. No. More like “pass the popcorn, this meltdown is entertaining” kind of way. The moment someone stumbles, whether emotionally, morally, or publicly, we swarm like flies to the mess. Screenshots. Shares. Laugh reacts. Mockery dressed up as “just jokes.” Support in numbers—but not the kind that heals, only the kind that humiliates.
But when someone dares to heal, grow, or shine a light? Crickets. Or worse, whispers of, “Who do they think they are?”
We show up in hundreds for destruction, but in ones—if that—for restoration.
And I’ve watched it for years. Felt it for years. The ache of wanting to be more, do more, become more. But standing in a world where authenticity is met with silence and shallowness is rewarded with applause can be disorienting. The hunger to create change, to be light, to build instead of break—gets buried beneath layers of performative friendships and ghost-like support.
It's wild. You can post something toxic, self-deprecating, or just plain messy, and it spreads like wildfire. But speak life? Offer encouragement? Try to lift people up? Suddenly you're invisible. Unless… you become famous. Unless… you get a blue checkmark or land a viral moment. Then, and only then, people decide it’s safe to support you.
It’s the same dynamic as that awkward “Can I get a volunteer?” moment. Everyone looks around. No one raises their hand. No one wants to go first—even if they believe in the mission. We wait for someone else to validate a movement before we move. We wait until support becomes popular before it becomes personal.
And honestly? It’s backward.
How have we reached a point where we can scroll past our friends' passions, dreams, or even pain—and never blink, but instantly jump to react when there’s a scandal or a punchline? How did we let ourselves become so numb, so distant, so… disconnected?
The truth is, we all have the power to make this world better. Not through some grand revolution, but through simple, consistent acts of showing up. Lifting instead of tearing. Supporting without needing a crowd to co-sign it first.
The wool’s been pulled over our eyes for too long. We’ve mistaken performance for authenticity. Popularity for purpose. Clout for character.
But here’s the thing: we don’t have to stay this way. We can be the ones who raise our hands first. Who support before it's trendy. Who care even when the cameras aren’t rolling.
The world can be better. But not until we stop treating brokenness like entertainment and start treating healing like the holy work it is.
So… can I get a volunteer?
Not just to read this—but to live it.
Because someone’s waiting to see if you will go first.
And maybe, just maybe, if enough of us step forward, the stage will finally shift.
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