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Invisible in the middle: Grieving a world built on injustice

This piece explores the emotional weight of living in a world that celebrates power and pities pain—but ignores those stuck in the middle. It’s not a rant or a solution. It’s a grief-filled, honest meditation on injustice, hypocrisy, and the quiet strength it takes to keep caring. 

There’s a kind of sadness that creeps in late at night.

Not because something went wrong. But because the world is working exactly as it was built—unfair, unequal, unkind.

I’ve been losing sleep over it.

Why is there so much injustice in the world?

Why do a few have everything, while most have nothing?

Why do we live in a society that worships power and pities poverty, but ignores the quiet millions in between—the people who keep the system running, who benefit from it just enough to stay silent, and who often cause the most harm without even noticing?

We live in a world that is starstruck.

Obsessed with winners. Fascinated by extremes.

Invisible in the middle: Grieving a world built on injustice

But if you're not on either end—if you're not the billionaire or the broken—you become invisible. Your voice is dismissed. Your grief is unseen.

And yet, ironically, it’s in that middle space where so much of the injustice is carried out. Not by villains in capes, but by everyday people choosing comfort over courage.

I sometimes feel like I’m holding a teaspoon, trying to paddle my way across a vast, raging ocean of cruelty, greed, and hypocrisy.

And to top it off—we talk about colonizing other planets, while we haven’t even learned to share this one.

I don’t have answers. I’m not a hero. I’m not a victim. I’m just awake. And it hurts.

But I still believe something can be done.

Not by saving the world. Maybe that’s beyond any of us.

But by refusing to play its twisted game.

By telling the truth, even quietly.

By helping one person, even anonymously.

By being kind in a world that rewards indifference.

By not letting this brokenness turn us cold.

Maybe that’s not enough.

But maybe that’s all we’ve got.

And maybe… that’s where healing begins.

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If this speaks to you, you're not alone. Feel free to write back, or just sit with it. Not everything needs fixing. Some things just need witnessing.

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We’re taught to look up at the powerful or down at the suffering, but rarely do we look beside us.

We are the middle. The workers, the dreamers, the silent enablers, the quietly aching souls.

Maybe we can’t burn the system down. Maybe we don’t even know how.

But we can stay human. We can still choose empathy in a time of numbness.

And maybe, in a world that thrives on cruelty, staying soft is the fiercest thing we can do.

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