Why are we unhappy?

We come into the world wired for closeness, yet too often drift out of attunement. Our bodies store pain long after the mind insists it has passed. We repeat old patterns, mistaking subsistence for living. Focus narrows, days unravel, and what might have been wonder sinks into routine. Still, the pressure remains, not only as biology or memory but as narrative. Children practice endings before beginnings. Adults bend themselves to survive demands that erode vitality. In poems and whispered confessions, people name what statistics cannot: the load of trying to stay intact in a world intent on wearing us down.

Read More