We walk around with our brains switched off. Until we don't.
Call it the Matrix if you want. A system. Order. Control.
It’s easier that way.
Switch off, and they love you for it.
“Such a humble soul.”
Translation: you don’t make trouble.
Power hates questions.
They told you it starts at home.
So you tried it as a kid, asked “why?”
And ended up dragged before the chief.
Or felt your parent’s hand like a stroke of lightning.
School taught you the same lesson.
“Shut up.”
Or feel the cane.
Or stay after class while everyone else goes home.
Then work.
You learn fast: curiosity gets you fired.
Obedience keeps the lights on.
So when you finally get a role in church
you swallow it.
You don’t complain.
Because you know the rules of the game.
Until the safe place stops being safe.
Until the refuge becomes a cage.
Bullying. Shaming.
And you’re drowning.
So you run to the one person.
The one you thought would see you.
Pull you out.
Save you.
And they look at you and say: “Shoosh.”
That’s when the world cracks open.
That’s when you finally see it.
You’ve been walking brainless too.
Bowing to the Matrix.
Rolling your eyes at the “woke” ones who tried to warn you.
Now they call you a rebel.
The bullies grin at your fall.
Let them grin.
Because the second you step out
really step out
it’s like you can breathe for the first time.
A wave of peace crashes over you.
Not the fake peace they preached.
The real kind.
The kind they said only God could give.
You don’t feel guilty for leaving.
You feel alive.
You smile without forcing it.
Doors you thought were locked swing open.
Your body stops hurting.
Life… life is beautiful.
And you cry, not for what you lost.
But for all the years you thought about ending it.
For all the times you almost believed the lie.
