Choice is the great lie we’re told, the golden carrot dangled in front of us. Democracy, they say, is the ultimate expression of freedom. That your vote matters, your voice matters, that you can change the course of history. But it doesn’t. It never has. And it never will. What we call democracy is little more than a carefully crafted performance—a set script with a rotating cast of actors. We cheer, we hope, we repeat the cycle. And still, nothing changes.
They rise. They fall. A new face, a new promise, a new wave of change. The crowds cheer. The cameras flash. The speeches are made. The revolution is just around the corner. But then, nothing. The hope fades, the promises are forgotten, and we’re left with the same tired play. The same old script. A new set of names, but the same agenda behind them. And we, foolishly, buy it again. We believe this time will be different. It never is. It never will be.
Power doesn’t change hands; it simply wears a new face. The lines don’t soften. They deepen. The divides grow sharper, more entrenched. The labels—left, right, black, white, good, bad—don’t define us. They bind us. We wear them like armor, thinking they protect us, when in reality, they cage us in.
Us versus them. Left versus right. Good versus evil. The illusion of choice. Pick a side. Pick a truth. Pick a team. If you’re not with us, you’re against us. It’s the language of war. It’s the disease of binary thinking. Certainty is the drug. Anything less is weakness. The world is painted in shades of black and white, and if you don’t fit into one or the other, you’re discarded. And we swallow it whole. We live in these cages, invisible and self-imposed, and we call it freedom.
The system is the prison. It thrives on fear. It convinces us we’re free while tightening its grip. It doesn’t matter if it’s nationalism wrapped in fascist flags, a utopian dream disguised as communism, or the hollow myth we call democracy. They’re all the same thing—different labels, same cage. Fear is the glue that holds it all together. And we’ve been conditioned to believe it’s the only reality there is.
This system isn’t new. It’s inherited, passed down like a twisted heirloom. We’ve been taught who to fear, who to hate, who to blame. We don’t even notice when we start living within its confines. Breaking free means stepping into a world without labels, without the comfort of knowing where you stand. It means embracing the chaos, the contradictions, the uncertainty.
If you want to control people, create an enemy more terrifying than you. Then step in as their savior.
It’s an old trick, one that’s been used for centuries. Fear keeps us in line. It makes us look to someone else for salvation. It convinces us that the cage is the only place where we’re safe.
They rewrite history to make us believe that only the great, the powerful, the exceptional get to change the world. So we wait. We wait for the next hero, the next savior, the next charismatic leader to show up and fix everything.
But the truth? We don’t need another hero. We don’t need kings, we don’t need presidents, we don’t need rulers. We don’t need masters.
Unless you’re still a slave.
And that slavery mentality? It doesn’t just disappear. It’s embedded in us, passed down through generations, ingrained so deeply that we don’t even recognize it. We’re conditioned to believe that someone else has the answers—that someone else must lead, someone else must fix it. Even when the chains fall away, we forget how to live without them. We return to the role of the obedient, the dependent, the passive. We’ve been taught to believe we need a master. And that’s the prison we keep returning.
We don’t realize that the best prisoner is the one who doesn’t know he’s in the prison.
