Profit isn’t in healing. It’s in selling you the illusion of it.
Write. Laugh. Hope.
Ever notice how the solution always comes with a price tag?
Your sadness? Marketed.
Your anxiety? Monetized.
Your trauma? Packaged and sold back to you in 3 easy payments—
plus tax, shipping, and emotional handling fees.
Because capitalism doesn’t want you well.
It wants you chasing wellness.
It doesn’t thrive when you’re grounded.
It thrives when you’re grasping.
Grasping for calm.
For clarity.
For something that looks like peace,
but is actually just a $49.99 subscription to a temporary distraction.
They build empires on your emptiness.
They call it “self-care” and hand you a branded candle.
They invent problems—then sell you solutions
that never actually solve anything.
Because a healed, confident, self-trusting person?
Is a terrible customer.
So they keep you just sick enough to need their pills,
just scared enough to buy their lies,
just tired enough to keep working
so you can afford more reasons to stay tired.
It’s not healing.
It’s hustling in disguise.
And the only thing it cures is their quarterly report.
Write. Laugh. Hope.
Because the revolution starts when you stop shopping for worth
and start remembering it was never for sale.
