I’m Scared—But Are You?

What happens when truth becomes dangerous, kindness is met with suspicion, and humanity is reduced to a transaction? I am scared—not just for myself, but for the world we are shaping. The values that once held us together are crumbling, and the lines between right and wrong have blurred into obscurity. We are adrift in a storm of moral erosion, social decay, and vanishing empathy.

Lies are easier to swallow than truth, and deception is more profitable than integrity. People wear masks of virtue while hiding hearts of stone. Compassion is mistaken for weakness, and honesty has become an act of rebellion. In a world where self-interest reigns supreme, where do we find hope? Are we even aware of the damage we’re causing, or have we become blind to our own downfall?

I am scared because right and wrong have lost their meaning.

There was a time when virtue and vice were universally understood. Goodness was celebrated, evil was condemned, and morality was a clear path, not a matter of debate. But today, those boundaries have been erased, redrawn, and blurred beyond recognition. Right and wrong are no longer defined by principles but by personal gain, social trends, and political convenience.

Honesty, once the highest virtue, has become a liability. Truth-tellers are labeled troublemakers, while manipulators and deceivers are rewarded. Whistleblowers risk everything—careers, reputations, even their lives—while the corrupt they expose continue to thrive. People no longer seek redemption for their wrongs; instead, they justify their actions, shift blame, and demand sympathy. We’ve reached a point where apologies are expected not from the guilty, but from those who dare to point out wrongdoing.

Justice, the great equalizer, has become a luxury—accessible to those who can afford it and elusive for those who need it most. Laws bend to influence, not truth. Courtrooms, once symbols of fairness, now serve as stages where verdicts are dictated by wealth and power. A thief who steals out of hunger rots in jail, while a fraudster who steals millions lives in luxury.

What happened to our moral compass? When did we start excusing evil if it benefits us? When did we begin to admire cunning more than virtue? If this is where we are now, where will we be tomorrow? Will morality become nothing more than a relic—admired in history books but discarded in practice?

This isn’t just a question of ethics. It’s a question of survival. A world without clear boundaries between right and wrong isn’t just corrupt—it’s dangerous. And that’s why I’m scared.

I am scared because we’ve lost our sense of community.

There was a time when a neighbor’s child was your child, when doors were left unlocked because trust was the foundation of society. Success was a collective victory, celebrated by all. The elderly were honored as sources of wisdom, and children were raised by the village, not just by their parents.

But today, the spirit of community has been replaced by selfish ambition. People no longer lift each other up; they step on one another to climb higher. Friendship is measured by usefulness, and loyalty is conditional. Wealth defines worth, and those who have less are often invisible. We live in crowded cities yet feel lonelier than ever. Technology connects us across continents, but we struggle to connect with the person sitting next to us.

We’ve become so consumed by personal success that we no longer ask, How is my neighbor doing? We turn a blind eye to suffering, assuming someone else will help. The hungry go unfed, the grieving go unnoticed, and the lost are left to wander alone.

Yet, even in this disconnected world, there are glimpses of hope—small, defiant acts of kindness that remind us humanity is not entirely lost. A stranger paying for someone’s meal. A person stopping to help another in distress. A child offering their last piece of bread to a friend. These moments flicker like candlelight in a storm, fragile yet powerful.

But will these small flames withstand the raging winds of indifference? Or will they be snuffed out by a world too busy, too distracted, and too hardened to care?

I am scared because honesty has become a crime.

Speaking the truth is no longer a virtue—it’s an act of rebellion. Those who dare to be honest are ridiculed, ostracized, or silenced. In a world that claims to value freedom of speech, the cost of truth is higher than ever. People fear offending others more than they fear betraying their own conscience. Sincerity is mistaken for arrogance, and constructive criticism is met with hostility.

We live in a time where lies are more palatable than truth. Social media rewards those who say what’s popular rather than what’s right. Politicians, religious leaders, and influencers package deception in smooth words and smiling faces, and the world applauds them for it. Diplomacy is no longer about fostering understanding—it’s become a mask for deceit. Silence has become the currency of survival, and those who dare to question the status quo are treated as threats rather than voices of reason.

Even in our personal lives, honesty is dangerous. People ask for the truth but cannot handle it when it’s spoken. Friendships, relationships, and even family bonds are broken not because of lies, but because someone dared to tell an inconvenient truth. We’ve created a society where pretense is rewarded, and those who refuse to conform are labeled troublemakers.

But if truth becomes too costly to tell, what happens when no one dares to speak it anymore? What happens when deception becomes the foundation of our existence? If we cannot trust the words of those around us, how can we build anything meaningful? How can we grow as individuals, as communities, or as a world when our very foundation is built on falsehoods?

It’s time to stop punishing honesty. It’s time to embrace truth, even when it’s uncomfortable. We must create a world where sincerity is valued over sugar-coated lies, where constructive criticism is a tool for growth rather than an excuse for outrage. We must remember that real progress begins when we dare to face reality and speak with integrity.

Truth should not be a crime. Honesty should not be an act of defiance. The world doesn’t need more agreeable people—it needs more honest ones.

I am scared because trust and generosity are dying.

Once, trust was the foundation of relationships, businesses, and societies. A handshake was as binding as a contract, and a promise was sacred. People gave without expecting anything in return, and kindness was extended without hesitation. Acts of generosity were met with gratitude, not skepticism.

I grew up in an era where supper was always prepared with an extra portion for a stranger who might pass by in need of food. An era where guests were treated with the utmost respect, and kindness was second nature. A time when children could move from house to house during festive seasons, collecting sweets and food without fear. A time when Muslims shared maasa and slaughtered animals with their Christian neighbors in the spirit of togetherness.

But today, suspicion taints every act of goodwill. A simple gesture of kindness is questioned: What does this person want from me? A stranger offering help is viewed with doubt, and an open hand is mistaken for a hidden agenda. The innocent suffer because of the sins of the deceitful. Those who once gave freely now hesitate, fearing exploitation. Those who receive hesitate, fearing hidden motives.

Even givers are scared. What if my generosity is misunderstood? What if I help someone, and they later accuse me of wrongdoing? What if my enemies perceive my charity as arrogance and target me with spiritual or physical harm? What if someone claims I used them for money rituals just because I became successful after helping them? Fear has replaced compassion, and distrust has shattered goodwill.

We’ve created a world where generosity is rare and kindness is second-guessed. We teach our children to be cautious, to be wary of strangers, to question even the purest of intentions. But what happens when we’ve taught an entire generation to trust no one? What happens when no one believes in goodwill anymore?

Can we undo this damage before mistrust becomes the norm? Or will we continue to build walls around our hearts, until even the light of kindness can no longer reach us?

I am scared because life has become fragile.

Life was once cherished, protected, and nurtured. Today, it feels more like a gamble—one wrong step, one moment of carelessness, and everything is lost. Our roads have become death traps, claiming over 1.3 million lives annually. Drivers race against time with no regard for human life, traffic laws exist only on paper, and poor infrastructure turns every journey into a potential tragedy. How did we reach a point where stepping outside feels like a risk?

Violence no longer lurks in the shadows. Assassinations happen in broad daylight, sometimes in full view of bystanders who’ve learned to look the other way. The sanctity of human life has been reduced to nothing—killed for money, for power, for mere disagreements. Families, once bound by love and loyalty, now fall apart over inheritances, land disputes, and selfish ambition. Blood ties mean nothing when greed takes over, when betrayal becomes the language of survival.

Even the food we eat, meant to sustain and nourish us, has turned into a slow poison. Fruits and vegetables, once symbols of health, are laced with harmful chemicals to make them look fresher. Processed foods are filled with artificial ingredients that destroy the body over time. Medicine, once meant to heal, is now often a business, where profit matters more than the patient’s well-being.

Where do we run when even the basics of survival—safety, trust, and nourishment—can no longer be guaranteed? If we cannot trust our roads, our homes, or even our food, where can we feel safe?

I am scared of what social media has become.

What was once a tool for connection has become a weapon of division, deception, and destruction. Social media was meant to bridge distances, to bring people closer, but instead, it has driven us further apart. The screen that was supposed to illuminate our world has cast a shadow over our humanity.

Fraud, cyberbullying, and moral decay thrive unchecked. Behind anonymous profiles, people spread lies, destroy reputations, and inflict pain without consequence. Scammers prey on the vulnerable, exploiting their trust and leaving them broken. Hate speech spreads like wildfire, dividing societies and fueling animosity. Truth is buried under layers of misinformation, and lies, if repeated enough, become accepted as reality.

Our children are being raised in a digital jungle, exposed to nudity, violence, and unrealistic expectations before they even understand the world. Social media sets impossible standards, teaching them that their worth is measured in likes and shares rather than in character and kindness. They idolize influencers who project perfection but hide their struggles, making young minds believe that happiness is found in filters and flawless posts.

Are we raising a generation that knows how to scroll but not how to feel? They craft the perfect caption but struggle to express their deepest emotions. They have thousands of online friends but are lonelier than ever. Social media, instead of enhancing real relationships, has reduced them to empty notifications. We spend more time curating our online personas than nurturing our real selves.

Will we allow technology to strip away our humanity, or will we take back control? Will we teach the next generation that their value is not in algorithms, but in their hearts, their minds, and their capacity for genuine connection? The internet was meant to serve us—not enslave us.

I am scared because religion has been hijacked.

What was once sacred has been turned into a marketplace. Places of worship, once sanctuaries of peace and reflection, have become businesses thriving on desperation. Faith, which should be a source of hope and guidance, is now a currency traded by those who claim to be its guardians.

False prophets sell miracles, preying on the pain and vulnerability of those seeking solace. They twist scripture to fit their agenda, turning divine promises into financial transactions. The pulpit, once a place of truth and conviction, is now a stage for manipulation. The gospel is no longer about salvation but about sowing ‘seeds’ into the pockets of those who claim to represent God.

Religious leaders, who should be shepherds, often prey upon the sheep they were meant to protect. They demand loyalty, not to God, but to themselves. They silence questioning voices, replacing faith with fear. Instead of guiding people toward righteousness, they exploit their devotion, profiting from their struggles.

And then there are the followers—many devoted in appearance but hypocritical in practice. They never miss a church service, mosque prayer, or religious gathering. They fast, join online prayer sessions, quote scriptures, and portray a holier-than-thou attitude. Yet, they are often the first to judge, discriminate, and oppress. They preach about love but practice hatred. They condemn sinners while committing the very sins they denounce. They gossip, betray, and look down on others, believing their religious acts make them superior.

Where can we turn when even places of solace have been corrupted? When the hands that should bless are the same hands that deceive? What happens when faith itself is for sale, and those who claim to uphold it live in contradiction?

Yet, despite this betrayal, true faith still exists—not in buildings or titles, but in the hearts of those who seek the divine with sincerity. Real spirituality cannot be bought, and God is not confined to institutions. Maybe, the answer lies not in abandoning faith, but in reclaiming it—stripping away the greed, the deceit, and the hypocrisy, and returning to the purity of belief, love, and truth.

I am scared of an economy that crushes the poor.

Inflation skyrockets while wages remain stagnant. Basic survival has become an extreme sport, where only the privileged have a safety net, and the rest are left to fend for themselves. The rich build empires on the backs of the struggling, exploiting cheap labor, unfair wages, and loopholes that benefit only them. Meanwhile, the poor fight over crumbs, trapped in a cycle of hardship they never chose.

Traders and businesses, once meant to serve communities, now exploit desperation. Prices are inflated not by necessity but by greed. The cost of living rises, but opportunities to earn a dignified income shrink. Families must make impossible choices—between food, rent, or medical care. Education, once a beacon of hope, is now a luxury, as many are forced to prioritize survival over learning.

And what of those who work tirelessly, hoping for a better tomorrow? Their efforts are swallowed by a system rigged against them. Hard work no longer guarantees success; it barely ensures survival. The dream of financial stability is no longer built on perseverance but on connections, privilege, or sheer luck.

How long can a society survive when most of its people are barely holding on? How long before the weight of inequality tips the scales toward chaos? If we continue down this path, we are not just failing the present—we are robbing the future. Is this the world we want to leave behind for the next generation? Or will we finally demand an economy that values people over profits?

I am scared of love and relationships.

Once built on trust, companionship, and mutual understanding, relationships today are dictated by social status, financial standing, and convenience. Love is no longer about the heart—it’s about the wallet. The depth of one's feelings is measured not by loyalty or sacrifice, but by the size of their bank account. Weddings have become performances, not unions, where the spectacle often outshines the commitment.

True connection feels like a fading myth, replaced by shallow encounters and transactional affections. People no longer seek partners; they seek providers, sponsors, or status symbols. Romantic gestures are weighed against their monetary value, and emotional security is often sacrificed for material gain. Even friendships are not spared—loyalty is conditional, and people are quick to disappear when the financial benefits run dry.

Worse still, the pressure to meet unrealistic standards has driven many into despair. Social media glorifies "relationship goals" that are often staged, making real-life love feel inadequate. People chase perfection instead of authenticity, and in the process, they lose what truly matters—genuine connection, patience, and unconditional support.

Has love become just another commodity, traded and priced like any other good? Or can we find our way back to a time when love meant more than what was in our pockets? When companionship was about sharing burdens, not counting expenses? When hearts, not bank accounts, were the foundation of lasting relationships?

I am scared for the youth.
The pressure to succeed is unbearable. Society demands wealth at an age when wisdom is still forming. If you don’t own a car, a house, or a business by your mid-20s, you’re seen as a failure. Hard work is mocked, and quick money is glorified. Many are driven into fraud, crime, or despair just to meet unrealistic expectations.

We’ve created a world where patience is outdated, where instant success is the only success that matters. Young people are drowning in anxiety, comparing themselves to online influencers who flaunt luxury without revealing the struggles behind the scenes. The message is clear: it doesn’t matter how you make money—just make it fast.

Education, once a path to stability, is now questioned. Many graduates find themselves unemployed, watching as those who bypassed school accumulate wealth through dubious means. Honest labor is undervalued, and genuine talent is ignored in favor of connections and shortcuts. The result? A disillusioned generation, trapped between wanting to do the right thing and fearing it won’t be enough.

Why have we equated self-worth with material success? When did we stop valuing the journey? If we don’t change course, will the next generation even believe in hard work, integrity, and true purpose?

I am scared of the future.
If this is our present, what awaits the next generation? A world where morality is irrelevant, kindness is rare, and power trumps integrity? If we continue down this path, what kind of legacy will we leave behind?

Yet, despite it all, I still believe. I believe this because I’ve seen acts of kindness that defy the odds, moments of truth that shine through deception, and people who refuse to let darkness win. I believe because history has shown us that even in the worst of times, there are those who rise to restore what is good and just. I believe this because I’ve witnessed love, sacrifice, and courage in places where they should have long disappeared.

I believe we can change. I believe we can choose kindness over cruelty, integrity over deceit, and love over hate. I believe trust can be restored, and that truth can once again have value. I believe humanity can heal.

The world is changing, but it doesn’t have to change for the worse. Let’s choose to be better—today, tomorrow, and every day after.

Are you with me?
#Puobabangna #
By Victor Raul Puobabangna Plance from Eggu in the Upper West Region of Ghana