My rebellion

The price we pay for societal stability and progress is a heavy bundle of unwritten norms. We follow them daily without a second thought: waiting patiently for the red light to change on an empty street, suppressing the urge to show romantic interest out of fear of rejection, or accepting a pre-packaged lifestyle because it feels safe. These norms act as a quiet gravitational pull, dragging us toward the thick middle of the bell curve. By forcing us to dissolve into the mass, they rob us of the fruits of unachieved dreams all over the world.

When making choices, we rarely act alone; we consciously or unconsciously conform to our environment. The environment is the ultimate director, editing our desires before we even feel them. To find what is genuinely best for ourselves, we have to achieve a kind of cosmic detachment — stepping back mentally into the vacuum of space to view our choices without the atmospheric pressure of society.

Imagine being born into a dictatorship so total that it restricts your very ability to think. You live and die without ever imagining an alternative, let alone a contradiction. Welcome to the mental reality of much of the world. Here are two examples:

Consider a teenager getting their first smartphone. Within hours, an algorithm begins steering their cognitive abilities, promoting extreme ideologies. Because extreme content provokes intense emotions, the algorithm feeds them a curated reality, trapping them in a feedback loop they didn't choose. Nevertheless, after a few days it becomes part of it, now the teenager feels like part of a community.

Similarly, my grandfather spent the majority of his life under Soviet rule, yet today he is a deep patriot. When I asked him if he ever struggled with his political stance during the regime, his answer was telling: he didn't even think to think about another ideology. The concept didn't exist to him because an alternative reality was entirely unimaginable.

Our mental limits are also drawn by the language we speak

"You are as many people as the languages you know."

Yet, despite how restrictive these norms, communities, and mental cages can be, they will never disappear. Why? Because they are profoundly comforting. It feels good to belong to a tribe. It is comforting to believe in a higher power when science offers only cold, indifferent facts. Ultimately, we cling to these structures because losing them means losing a massive chunk of who we are. We might complain about the boundaries of the cage, but we secretly crave the safety it provides.

Strong is the one who faces the truth, accepts the darkness, and blooms like a flower of happiness and independence through concrete.