that reality is not yours, that's why it won't work.

so don't do that to yourself. don't do that to your soul.

Rain collected on the window of my study as a haunting question rolled through my head, halting the rest of my thoughts. Sadness tightened my chest. Apprehension swelled my nostrils. Confusion furrowed my brows. And, disbelief replayed the question in my head six times or more.

Why are so many people so miserable, so stressed, and so disappointed these days?

While I am a witness that life has a way of squatting over you, pulling its pants down, and taking a massive shit, I also know that life can be as beautiful as wild flowers in the middle of spring. I know that days can be cruel, but days can be kind. I also know that not everyone everywhere is living up to their fullest potential, but little pockets of happiness exist and keep them pushing until their wishes become their reality.

So, again, the question presented itself.

Why are so many people so miserable, so stressed, and so disappointed these days?

I didn’t have the answer that day as I sat in my study. I didn’t have the answer the next day, as I combed my hair either. But new thoughts continued to arise.

Surprisingly, it’s not just adults affected by this wave of unhappiness. Children are victims too. Teens and pre-teens, especially. And, so are the grade-schoolers.

It wasn’t until my back was dripping with sweat and my legs started to burn from my time on the treadmill days later that the answer I’d been searching for found me.

That’s not misery on their pretty faces; it’s silent, sometimes unintentional competition.

That’s not misery on their pretty faces; it’s a deep desire to have exactly what someone else is in possession of.

That’s not misery on their pretty faces; it’s anxiousness to be rewarded in one year what it took someone else ten years to receive.

That’s not misery on their pretty faces; it’s greed.

That’s not misery on their pretty faces; it’s discomfort from the pursuit of someone else’s reality.

And, sadly, consumption is to blame. Long ago, I denounced the mere idea of personal social media accounts. It feels too much like a stage. Almost everything is performative, intentionally and unintentionally.

I separate myself from my artistry for this very reason. I don’t want to matter (to strangers), consuming my words. All that matters is my message, the feeling they get when they pull open the pages of my book, and how sad they are to see another one end. That’s it.

I understand how hard it is to separate your reality from others’ when proximity is determined by accessibility now. And, frankly, almost everyone is accessible online. But what’s happening online is hardly ever the full truth.

Only parts of your life are displayed for the world to see.

To study.

To analyze.

To digest.

To hate.

To love.

To judge.

To consume.

To visualize.

To fantasize.

To yearn.

To crave.

To obsess over, knowingly and unknowingly.

Then, the comparison begins. Not long after come the changes.

Words. Wardrobe. Routines. Rituals. Clothes. Colors. Locations. Hair. Makeup. Poses. Interests. Hobbies. Goals. Desires.

The lines blur so easily and so swiftly that you’ll miss the merge if you blink.

My child came to me one day and said, “---’s life is so fun. They play with their parents every day, all day. They even turned their home into a full playhouse. I wish we could do that.”

That day, YouTube became a thing of our past.

Because just as comparison is the thief of joy, misery thrives in the pursuit of someone else’s reality.

I decided to end the continuous consumption of pieces and portions of a life that my six-year-old had begun comparing to theirs.

“Having fun is their job, baby. Playing all day, every day, is their parents’ job, too. And, it’s the payments from the videos you watch of theirs that made them decide to turn their home into a big office where they can work all day, every day. Are you ready for a job?”

“No.”

The answer was clear. Theirs and mine. While I was able to stop my child from falling into the abyss that consuming others’ lives too often and too vulnerably creates, there’s no one to catch most people.

There’s no one telling them to stop scrolling.

There’s no one in their home to keep them too busy to have their faces in their phones.

There’s no one in their home to keep them from binging reality shows.

There’s no one in their circle to warn them against the dangers of overconsumption.

Too much of anything becomes a problem. We’ve heard it so many times before. It remains true.

And the problem with consuming so much of someone’s reality is that it’s making people miserable.

Not because life sucks so much, but because they don’t have what someone else has.

Not because they don’t have money in their account, but because they don’t have as much money as someone else has.

Not because their home isn’t beautiful, but because it isn’t big as the one someone else has.

Not because they don’t have a roof over their head, but because they don’t own the roof over their head like someone on their feed who just purchased a home.

Not because they don’t have a job, but because they don’t work for themselves like someone else does.

Not because they aren’t in a good place in life, but because they aren’t in the place someone else is at in life.

Not because they aren’t stable, but because they aren’t wealthy like someone else.

Not because their parents aren’t in their lives anymore, but because their parents didn’t hand down riches like someone else’s parents did.

Not because their cell is off, but because they don’t have the latest one like someone else does.

Not because they are unhappy single or in their relationship, but because they aren’t married like someone else is.

Not because they don’t have food in their fridge, but because it isn’t organized in useless containers like someone else on their timeline.

Not because their children aren’t thriving, but because they aren’t as knowledgeable as someone else’s baby genius online.

Not because they don’t look good, but because they don’t look as good as someone else on social media.

Not because they aren’t liberated, but because they don’t take as many vacations as someone else online.

Not because they hate being a mother, but because someone without children is always having fun in their stories.

Not because life isn’t good, but because it isn’t as great as someone else’s.

It breaks my heart. It rips holes in my soul. It brings tears to my eyes, knowing that…

1. The happiness of so many people is dependent upon their closeness to someone else’s reality.

2. Validation soothes the souls of so many, and without it, they’re soulless. Heartless. Careless.

3. Misery is so fluent yet so misinterpreted in our days.

4. No one knows themselves anymore. Individuality is a dying art, and greed is the new sheriff in this town. Because one can’t help but force the belief that if she/he has it, then I should have it too.

5. So many beautiful minds have been lost to the harsh conditions that consumption breeds.

6. Consumerism doesn’t only kill us physically. It’s collecting minds, souls, and emotions for its graveyard.

7. Relationships, friendships, and genuine connections have had their bridges burned by these invisible monsters.

8. It’s a never-ending cycle. Even the babies are feeling it.

Reyna Biddy said, “When love is real, you gather your bones and make supper anyway.”

Now that I’ve answered the question that circled in my head for weeks, I have a new one. But, it isn’t for me. It’s for you if any part of this article has sounded remotely close to your current position.

Is the love you have for yourself real enough for you to gather your bones and make supper anyway?

Because what’s on their plate can’t fill your belly. You don’t like the same foods, and you don’t drink your water at the same temperature. You are particular about your spices, and the beef on their plate will have you breaking your red meat fast. You hate the big light and warming your seconds on paper plates. You only eat with silverware, never plastic.

Don’t tarnish your greatness by trailing someone else’s. Put down the phone. Stop masking duplication with inspiration. Move out of that lane. Keep your eyes on your own paper. Stop visiting their page. Stop studying them. Stop scrolling. Stop consuming. Start creating. Or not.

Retrieve your individuality and create a life that yesterday’s you would be proud of. Because you’re not miserable, babe, you’re in pursuit of something that doesn’t belong to you. Fix your GPS, and you’ll see the sun shining a little further down this dark road. You’ve got this.

Now, go on home to yourself. They’re waiting.

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