Why do we feel so bad that we want to disappear?
Why do we melt into video games, “gooning culture,” reality TV, sports betting apps, Instagram scrolls, cheap dopamine loops? Why do we drink ourselves numb, play pretend with dice, and pay to swipe right as much as we want?
Why do so many of us want out?
Here’s my answer: somewhere along the line, we were made to believe this is all we deserve.
We’re not supposed to feel good, happy, or even safe. We’re supposed to cope. To self-soothe. To persevere.
We are alienated from our labor, our communities, our futures, our bodies — so we reach for the next hit. The next bet. The next edge. The next binge.
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These systems weren’t built for joy. They were built to pacify us, to keep us in place and commodify our attention. They offer just enough fantasy to endure the real. “Fun” is a sedative. “Pleasure” has been privatized. You get 3 hours to pretend you’re free before you clock back in. Do you want to take care of yourself or take care of yourself?
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This world doesn’t feel good because it isn’t good for most of us.
The more you feel that, the more tempting it becomes to drop out entirely. To crawl into your little screen, your little bag, your little loop. But escape is just another word for surrender when it’s the only option we ever choose.
Escape can never satisfy on its own. You don’t feel fulfilled after a 7-hour bender of League of Legends or Reddit porn or hitting a 13-leg parlay. You feel the dopamine rush. Then you feel hollow.
And then you start again.
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You are not broken for wanting to disappear. You are not lazy, weak, or defective. You are responding — rationally — to a system that makes real fulfillment almost impossible.
But feeling bad is not the end of the story.
It’s the beginning of resistance.
Resisting the urge to escape doesn’t mean you never play again. It means waking up to the design of the trap. It means asking what could actually make me feel good — long-term, real, connected, full-body, mind, and soul good? It means refusing to accept simulation as a substitute for life.
This is reconnection to each other, to struggle, and to play that isn't monetized or measured. We must reconnect to collective joy, risk, intimacy, and purpose. We must build new structures.
So, put down the controller. Not forever, but long enough to feel the grief. The hunger for something real. The rage. Long enough to look your friends in the eye. Long enough to plant something.
Build something.
Burn something down.
Make love.
Make food.
Make music.
Make demands.
We were not born to grind.
We were not born to escape.
We were born to remake the world, in service of each other.