We believed. Everything they said, we believed. Some of us for a brief moment, some of us still believe.

They lied. They promised us the paradise lost. They promised us peace, they promised us love, they promised no one will ever be hungry, scared, homeless. They promised no one will ever be alone.

Now we know that they used our greatest fears. They sold us our very own dreams. They sold us our hopes.

And we paid. We happily paid for whatever was ours. Some of us already know, some of us will never do. It doesn’t matter. The fight is already lost.

It was inevitable, wasn’t it? Who wouldn’t want to end all of that? It was inevitable that we believed and we hoped and we dreamed. We dreamed of paradise.

The promise was great, the hope was unlimited, the truth is overwhelming. The great promise of not being alone anymore was used to steer the masses into the radicalism. The new technology that should have been used for our salvation was used for their profit.

And we still believed.

No one can save us, no one can help us, no one will care until we don’t care. And we don’t.

We are fucked. We have nothing left but each other and we still prefer to fight over the plastic toy in a fucking shop.

We are so used to cruelty, that we don’t even look away. We simply can’t see. We are so used to not caring about others, that we’re really and honestly surprised when someone isn’t selfish.

And we buy. We buy so many things, so unnecessary and so empty and we hope we can buy happiness. We hope we will buy salvation from our own thoughts.

A new car, a new toy, a new travel, a new partner, a new whatever doesn’t bring the peace. The peace we have lost and we don’t even remember how it is to be in peace. To be calm. To be still.

We don’t even remember.

It’s the sign of the times, that there’s less and less hope in my words. Maybe I’m a doomer, maybe I’m too emotional. Maybe I am. Maybe I am not. I don’t even know.

But I know I’m angry.

There’s so much fury, there’s so much rage in me, there’s so much anger.

I have to live in the world destroyed by those who won’t live in it anymore. Maybe they already know, maybe they simply don’t care. But it is me, and it is you, who will live in this world in whatever shape it’s going to have.

And there’s the fury that cannot find the vent. There’s anger they said I must not feel. There’s anger they told me and they told you that we should to stop inside. Anger we should kill. With our dreams it should die, and with the better world we hoped we’re going to build.

And anger we tried to kill is now killing us. From inside. We pay the price, again, again we pay the price. It’s our soul that’s broken, it’s our psyche that’s broken, it’s our emotions that are suppressed.

We were told, that emotions are the reason to be ashamed. We were told, that only weak felt them and we should hide them deep inside.

I am not ashamed anymore.

We are the ones who will have to deal with whatever they’re going to fuck up in the world. I am the one who will live in the world they’re building just now.

And I am the one who is told to shut up and just buy myself something nice.

I believed them. I believed them for many years and I was buying nice things which should have helped me to forget. About my dreams and about their lies. A new toy, and a new app, and a new shiny social media platform that were supposed to keep me busy. And to make me buy another new thing.

Our saviors were busy in their garages and their cellars and their glass offices. They were busy preparing new shiny toys for us, they were busy selling us our dreams.

Is there any promise they have delivered?

Now I know there is no point in being angry, isn’t it? I wish I had back then, when I had energy to fight, I wish I had back then my knowledge I have now. And I know that in a few years, in a few decades I’ll read this post and I will laugh on me and I don’t care.

Someone has to say it out loud.

Our dreams were monetized, our hopes were sold and our ideas were productized. The world we’re going to live was prepared for us and no one asked us if we really want it.

And we are left with only such lunatic blog posts, written in the midnight and published before the sun rises, published before the shame rises, published with hope, that someone, somewhere will read it, will think it, and will let me know I am not the only one who sees that something’s wrong with the world.

Because there is still hope. There is hope that people who don’t agree, people who want something better, will find each other and will build something better that they want, that they deserve.

Because there is still hope. There is hope that there are people strong enough to respond with calm, steady peace to violence and hatred. Who are strong enough to use rage, fury, anger to use them and find the power to change something.

Something small. Something close to them. Something near by.

It is not enough. But it is a good start. It’s something to build on. To build upon.

Because it matters. Small things matter and can change the world.