Refusing the Lie: Why I Keep Writing When Humanity Is Asleep

I am not here to save humanity.

I am here to refuse the lie, document the pattern, and leave an honest record.

That distinction matters.

If I believed my task was to “fix” the world, I would have collapsed long ago under the weight of human insanity, cruelty, and denial. Humanity, as a collective, is not waking up. It is doubling down on repression, projection, and scapegoating—now amplified by technology, money, and absolute power.

And yet, the urge to write does not leave me.

Even when I’m tired.
Even when I say I want to stop.
Even when the world makes it painfully clear that truth is unwelcome.

That itch remains because truth, once consciously seen, cannot be unseen. And once it is seen, it must be recorded.

The Pattern Does Not Change—Only the Faces Do

We just saw another “isolated tragedy,” another story the media will treat as an aberration rather than a symptom:

A woman carries a pregnancy to term.
She gives birth to a baby.
She raises the child for nine years.
Then she murders her.

This is not incomprehensible.
It is not mysterious.
It is not “evil appearing out of nowhere.”

It is unresolved childhood trauma playing out with fatal consequences.

A person does not suddenly snap after years of parenting. What snaps is the last remaining psychological dam holding back oceans of repressed rage, fear, shame, and terror—emotions that were never allowed, never witnessed, never understood.

The child becomes the container.

And when repression finally collapses, the violence that was once internalized becomes externalized.

This is not madness in the psychiatric sense.
It is emotional blindness normalized by society.

Repression Is the Real Epidemic

Humanity likes to pretend it does not know where violence comes from.

But Alice Miller told us decades ago:

• Violence is learned.

• Cruelty is transmitted.

• Children forced to repress their pain do not “heal”—they store it.

• Stored pain does not disappear. It waits.

What we are witnessing around the globe—mass shootings, domestic murders, political brutality, collective cruelty—is the harvest of that repression.

And instead of facing it, society does what it always does:

• blames pills,

• blames mental illness,

• blames AI,

• blames immigrants,

• blames victims,

• blames anything except childhood repression.

The truth is too threatening.

Because if childhood were faced honestly, parents would no longer be sacred, authority would no longer be automatic, and power would no longer be morally protected.

Why I Keep Writing

I keep writing not because I believe humanity will suddenly awaken.

I keep writing because someone, somewhere, someday will need the record.

They will need to know:

• that the roots of violence were known,

• that denial was a choice,

• that some people refused to lie to protect comfort, power, or illusion.

Writing is not hope.
Writing is witness.

And witness does not negotiate with denial.

If humanity is heading toward collapse, it will not be because there was no warning. It will be because the warning threatened too many cherished illusions.

I am done trying to convince.
I am done dancing around narcissists—whether in workplaces, institutions, family, or governments.
I am done softening language to spare fragile egos.

I write so the lie cannot say it went unchallenged.

That is enough.

This essay was written in collaboration with artificial intelligence (ChatGPT) as a tool for reflection, synthesis, and articulation. The responsibility for the ideas and interpretations expressed here remains my own.