You Deserve to Know (But You’ll Probably Ignore It Anyway)
Look, I get it. You’re scrolling through this on the porcelain throne, half-caffeinated, three tabs deep into a Wikipedia rabbit hole about why the platypus exists just to troll evolution. You think you deserve to know the truth about something. Maybe it’s about that weird smell in your car. Maybe it’s about why your coworker Karen keeps “accidentally” CC’ing the whole department on emails that are clearly passive-aggressive manifestos. Or maybe—just maybe—you think you deserve to know why the universe, your boss, and that one neighbor who power-washes his driveway at 6 AM on a Saturday are all conspiring against you.
Well, buckle up, buttercup. I’m about to drop some truth that’s going to hit harder than a 2 AM Taco Bell reckoning. And no, it’s not about the secret menu at Chick-fil-A. It’s about the stuff that actually matters but that we, as a collective dumpster fire of a society, have decided to just… ignore.
First up: you are not the main character. I know, I know. Your mom told you you’re special, your Instagram followers think your brunch photos are “aesthetic,” and you have a curated playlist for every possible emotion. But here’s the cold, hard reality: you are a background extra in 99.9% of everyone else’s lives. That barista who spelled your name wrong? She doesn’t hate you. She’s thinking about her student loans and the fact that her cat just threw up on her only clean pair of jeans. You deserve to know that the universe isn’t a movie about you. It’s a chaotic improv show where everyone is drunk and the stage manager quit.
Speaking of things you deserve to know: the “hustle culture” that your LinkedIn influencer bro keeps screaming about is a pyramid scheme for your sanity. You think you deserve that corner office, that six-figure salary, that viral LinkedIn post about “waking up at 4 AM to grind.” Newsflash: you deserve to know that the guy who invented the 40-hour work week literally did that because he realized humans are not meant to be productive for more than like, eight hours a day. But sure, keep chasing that “hustle” until you’re 45, divorced, and your only friend is a subscription to a meal kit service you never use. You deserve to know that rest is not a reward; it’s a biological necessity. But go off, king.
Let’s talk about relationships, because nothing brings out the AITA energy like love. You think you deserve to know if your partner is “the one.” Well, spoiler: they’re not. Or they are. Honestly, nobody knows. But you deserve to know that the concept of “soulmates” was invented by some ancient Greek dude who was probably just trying to get laid. The real truth? Love is a series of compromises, awkward silences, and deciding whether you can live with the fact that they leave the toothpaste cap off. You deserve to know that you’re not going to find a perfect person, because perfect people don’t exist. They’re either in therapy or hiding in a bunker in Montana. So maybe stop swiping left on everyone who isn’t a 6’4” neurosurgeon with a six-pack and a golden retriever. You deserve to know that your standards might be a coping mechanism for your own fear of intimacy. You’re welcome.
Now, let’s get spicy. You deserve to know that the “news” you’re consuming is designed to make you angry, scared, or both. It’s not a conspiracy theory; it’s basic economics. Outrage sells better than a Taylor Swift concert ticket. Every time you share a hot take about whatever the latest political circus is, you are feeding a machine that has no interest in your well-being. You deserve to know that your Facebook uncle who posts about “the libs” and your yoga auntie who shares “alternative health” articles are both being manipulated by the same algorithm. You think you deserve to know the “truth”? The truth is that nobody has a monopoly on it, and everyone is lying to you, including me, right now. But especially the guy on TV who tells you to “stay tuned for more.”
And for the love of all that is holy, you deserve to know that your phone is not a friend. It’s a slot machine in your pocket. Every notification, every like, every “you have a new message” ping is a dopamine hit designed to keep you addicted. You think you deserve to know what’s happening in the group chat? No, you’re just chasing the high. Meanwhile, you’ve forgotten what the back of your own eyelids look like. You deserve to know that the average person spends more time scrolling on their phone than they do sleeping. That’s not a flex; that’s a cry for help. Put the phone down, touch some grass, and realize that the world is not ending because someone posted a bad take on Reddit. (Well, it might be ending, but not because of the take.)
Let’s talk about the elephant in the room: your own mortality. You deserve to know that you’re going to die. Everyone does. It’s the least exclusive club in history. But instead of facing that, we buy expensive skincare, go to CrossFit, and pretend that “biohacking” is a thing. You are not going to live forever. You are a temporary collection of atoms that will eventually be reclaimed by the void. But hey, you deserve to know that this isn’t a reason to be sad. It’s a reason to stop wasting your time on things that don’t matter. Like arguing about pineapple on pizza. (It’s fine, by the way. You’re wrong if you hate it, but it’s fine.)
Oh, and you deserve to know that your diet is probably trash. I don’t care if you’re keto, vegan, paleo, or a “c
Final Thoughts
Given the pervasive opacity of algorithms and media gatekeeping in 2025, I’ve learned that “you deserve to know” isn’t just a slogan—it’s an ethical demand that too many power brokers still ignore. The real conclusion here is that transparency isn’t a gift from institutions; it’s a muscle the public must constantly exercise, because the moment we stop demanding clarity is the moment someone else writes the story for us. In my years in the field, I’ve seen that the truth doesn’t just “come out” on its own—it has to be pulled, kicked, and sometimes pried from the hands of those who’d rather we stayed in the dark.