An Invitation to the End of Wealth Worship — and the Beginning of a Human Future

Let’s stop lying to ourselves about the world we’ve built.

I’m not saying that with anger for the sake of anger. I’m saying it because I’ve watched enough of this reality to finally admit something I used to ignore: what we call “normal” is costing us our humanity. And the more we pretend that this is simply “the way the world works,” the more we participate in a silent agreement that leaves millions living without dignity.

I didn’t arrive here through rebellion or ideology. I arrived here because I kept noticing a pattern I could no longer unsee. We live surrounded by abundance—food, technology, comfort, innovation, knowledge. Humanity has never had more capability than we do now. And yet dignity is treated like a luxury. Safety is conditional. And worth? Worth is measured by how much a person can endure, produce, or sacrifice for systems that do not love them back.

This is the part I can’t pretend not to see anymore.

Somewhere along the way, we replaced the idea of being human with the idea of being “useful.” We built a world where people are valued for what they can do, not for who they are. A world where suffering is romanticized as hard work, exhaustion is virtue, and needing rest or help is weakness. We applaud those who “push through” and quietly judge those who fall apart under the weight. We’ve normalized emotional numbness as resilience, burnout as ambition, and self-abandonment as discipline.

And then we wonder why so many feel disconnected, anxious, or lost.

I used to think the problem was just unfairness or inequality. But it goes deeper. It’s a confusion at the root of our culture: we have mistaken survival strategies for identity. We treat struggle as character. We treat burnout as success. We treat constant productivity as proof of value. We’ve turned the human spirit into a performance metric.

It’s not that ambition is wrong. Growth isn’t the enemy. Progress is not the issue. But somewhere along the way, we began worshipping the outcomes instead of the people living through them. We praise the ones who “win” at the economic game as if they are a higher form of human. We look at wealth as evidence of virtue, intelligence, superiority—even destiny. As if comfort is earned by character, and hardship is a personal failure. As if dignity must be deserved.

Y’all lying and playing…

Because if dignity must be earned, then we are not a society—we are a competition disguised as one.

And here’s the truth that keeps echoing in me: a truly developed world would not require a person to earn the right to be treated with dignity.

We rarely say this out loud, but we live in a culture that teaches: “Your worth is what you can produce. Your value is how much you can endure. Your success is how much you can accumulate.” This story trains us to see ourselves as instruments, not beings. It conditions us to ask “How can I become more valuable?” instead of “Do I feel alive in my own life?”

If dignity is reserved for the lucky, the relentless, or the already advantaged, then what we call “progress” is just privilege with better PR.

And if we can build rockets, cure diseases, and automate half of life, then we are capable of building a world where people don’t have to suffer to be seen as worthy.

So why don’t we?

Because the current story benefits from staying in place. It keeps us striving, comparing, competing, and never questioning. If we stay busy chasing worth, we don’t ask who decided the rules. We don’t ask who benefits from the exhaustion. We don’t ask why we treat basic human needs like privileges.

The conditioning runs deep. And the most effective conditioning is the kind people defend as “normal.”

It’s uncomfortable to admit that we built a world that does not align with human well-being. It’s uncomfortable to question the story we were raised inside. But discomfort is not a sign that we are wrong. It’s a sign that something true is being touched.

There is nothing “natural” about a society where people feel they must prove their right to exist.

This system is not ancient or inevitable. It is a story—repeated long enough to feel like truth. But stories can evolve. Stories can be rewritten. And maybe the real work of this time is not to achieve more, but to remember what we lost while chasing what we were told matters.

Underneath all of the noise, I believe most people want the same simple things: to feel safe, to feel valued, to feel connected, to feel like their life matters beyond output. The problem is not that humanity is broken. The problem is that we have been living inside a narrative that is too small for the human soul.

Progress cannot be measured by speed if we are running in the wrong direction.

So here is the discomfort I am sitting with: if a society can produce extraordinary wealth, but cannot guarantee dignity, safety, or belonging for the people who make that society function, then what exactly are we calling “advanced”?

The world we built is impressive, but it is not yet humane.

And it won’t become humane until we remember that systems exist to serve people—not the other way around.

Changing this won’t begin with policies, debates, revolutions, or new ideologies. It begins with honesty. It begins with the courage to stop pretending everything is fine. It begins with noticing where the story of worthiness has shaped our identity. It begins with questioning the voice inside us that says, “I must do more to be enough.”

You don’t have to reject ambition. You don’t have to abandon progress. You don’t have to “opt out of society.” This isn’t about becoming less—it’s about becoming human again.

What if the measure of a good life wasn’t how much you achieve, but how deeply you feel alive while living it? What if the measure of a society wasn’t wealth, but how safe people feel to be fully themselves? What if progress wasn’t defined by power, but by the presence of compassion?

These questions don’t require permission. They only require willingness.

I’m not asking you to agree with me. I’m asking you to sit with the discomfort that rises when you stop pretending everything is fine. You don’t need to fix the world or fix yourself. Just stop lying to yourself about what you already know feels wrong.

What now?

Stop performing “fine.” Stop playing along. Pick one place in your life where you’ve been betraying yourself for acceptance, productivity, or status — and refuse to continue the lie. Change one behavior in the direction of dignity. If you won’t fight for your own humanity, why would the system ever offer it to you?

Your life is the first place the new story must become real — and others follow what they can feel, not what they are told.

---

Related… if you want to keep going…

• Love Is the Final Revolution — After nearly losing myself to global chaos, I found the most radical act isn’t outrage — it’s love. A reflection on politics, fear, and why building a home rooted in kindness may be the ultimate rebellion.

• The Paradox of Modernity: Progress Without Peace — We are living in the most advanced moment in human history. And yet, we are also arguably the most confused, alienated, addicted, manipulated, and emotionally starved generation ever to exist.

• What Are We Even Calling Democracy Anymore? — A raw reflection on the state of democracy, the gap between rhetoric and reality, and the need for genuine systemic change.

• Good Sheep — How we’ve been conditioned to love our own systematic exploitation — from theme parks to algorithmic playlists, we pay premium prices to be herded through corporate processing systems while calling it freedom.

• If Your Politics Obsess Over Control, You’re Not Well — Analysis of how fear and trauma manifest in control-based political ideologies. Explores the relationship between personal insecurity and authoritarian policy positions.

• Transforming My Life Through the Application of What I Value — Personal story of four years of therapy and habit changes. Shows how aligning daily actions with core values led to improved mental health and relationships.

• On the Application of Empathy and Compassion — How learning empathy and compassion transformed my approach to conflict, relationships, and self-understanding.