For the wrong reasons

The vows I whispered under the bright skies were less about love and more about need, to not sleep alone, to escape my own silence.

I called it romance, but it was bargaining, a trade of loneliness for a familiar lie.

I smiled at strangers not because I liked them, but because I wanted to be liked.

I found myself holding doors open for praise, I gave coins to beggars for the warm pat on my own back.

Kindness, I rehearsed, theatrical in tone, a performance for God, for good karma, I did all that.

I brokered truces with men in suits, whose hands still dripped with the ink of bombs.

I sent our sons and daughters to die for borders, for oil, for pride and for contracts.

The soldiers I praised knew the truth in quiet moments. They don’t sleep with glory, they sleep with guilt, wondering if the child they killed would've grown up kinder than the general who sent them.

I accepted religion for fear, not in faith. Bowed not to understand, but to avoid damnation.

Recited words I never believed so I could belong and so I could judge. I prayed for the heavens while building hell for others.

I followed trends for the wrong reasons. Not to express, but to blend.

I altered my face, filtered truths, adopted a culture of curation, not to live, but to perform.

I called it progress, but it was concealment.

I buried my uniqueness under pixels and algorithms until even I forgot who I was.

I claimed to fight for equality, but only when it served my image.

I searched for purpose in titles, not truths, in accolades, not impact. I measured success by what I owned, never what I helped others achieve.

I chased validation, likes over love, clicks over conversations. I sold myself in pieces, to a world that never cared and called that freedom.

In my journey through life, I've done so much, for the wrong reasons.

^{Inspired by the image above, given current wars. Image was found on Pinterest (has been resized with AI).}