There comes a time, in the depth of any era, when the savage creatures lurking in the shadows of a society become so large, so impossible to ignore, that they are no longer just metaphors. They are real beasts, alive and breathing, their claws unsheathing with every passing moment, their snarls reverberating in the air. You, the youth of this so-called free and prosperous world, find yourselves standing at the precipice, facing four monstrous dragons that, if left unchecked, will swallow the remnants of your future whole. These dragons are not cloaked in mystery; they are the suffocating truths we have buried deep within our bones, truths that feed on our ignorance, our apathy, our blindness to the edge of the abyss.
The first dragon—the most ravenous, and yet the most invisible—is the hopelessness that has woven itself so tightly into the fabric of the lives of so many, it has become as natural as breathing. The poison that has taken root in the bodies and minds of this generation comes not just from the chemical substances that promise a reprieve but from something deeper, more insidious. It is the weight of feeling irredeemably lost in a world that demands constant production, constant action, constant "success," but offers nothing but an unrelenting grind toward personal annihilation. You’ve been fed lies about who you should be, about what your life must look like, but no one told you that the goalposts keep moving, that the game is rigged, that there is no golden prize at the end—just the quicksand of despair.
Opioids, pills, syringes, bottles—tools of your execution—are sold to you as temporary respite, a promise that the pain will subside. Suicide, that final, merciless silence, hangs like a dark cloud over you. You might laugh at the idea of these things in the face of your responsibilities, but you know as well as anyone that the crushing weight of your own soul’s collapse is no joke. In the quiet of the night, when no one is looking, when no one cares to witness your unraveling, the idea comes to you: Maybe it’s easier this way. But it’s not easier. It’s a lie. The real dragon is the emptiness gnawing at the edges of your existence. And it will consume you unless you face it head-on.
Next comes the dragon that has long since crossed the threshold of myth and is now all too tangible: the collapse of moral values that has rotted away the family, the bedrock of society itself. A family should be the first place you learn about love, trust, compassion, and responsibility. But for many, that foundation was never built, or worse, it was smashed apart by indifference, anger, and the decaying relics of false ideals. What was once the last bastion of belonging has become a battlefield, a horror show where relationships are transactional, and the human heart is a commodity traded for the next dopamine hit.
The family is supposed to be the incubator of identity, the space where you come to know yourself, but how can you form an identity when the very people who should have cared for you have traded their humanity for convenience? The truth is, no dragon can be slain without first knowing its true shape. And the shape of this dragon is cold, calcified, and indifferent to your very survival. You must look it in the eye and fight for the basic human decency that allows us to trust, to love, to find meaning.
Then there is the grotesque, ever-growing dragon that lingers in the food you consume and the lack of movement that permeates your sedentary existence. It is not just about obesity—it is about something more profound: the detachment from the body, the forgetting of what it means to be human. You are consuming synthetic, hollow "foods," as if by some divine trickery, and turning away from the primal rhythms of your own flesh. You are told that happiness lies in convenience, that pleasure lies in your next snack or your next streaming binge. The exercise that was once a basic part of being alive—of feeling your heart thrum in your chest, of lifting something heavy, of sweating your way through life—has become an afterthought, a nuisance, something to be avoided. Your body is not a machine—it is a living, breathing entity that requires care, attention, and respect. If you ignore it, it will not forgive you. This dragon does not just lay its weight on you; it suffocates you, traps you in a cocoon of numbness and self-doubt, only to emerge with a bloated, distorted version of yourself.
Finally, the dragon of nihilism, that seductive, poisonous idea that nothing matters. It is easy to swallow because it promises freedom—freedom from expectation, freedom from responsibility, freedom from the weight of purpose. But nihilism is not freedom. It is a prison built of apathy, a graveyard for the soul. The real enemy here is not meaninglessness—it is the absence of action, the lack of courage to shape your own destiny. Nihilism seduces you into believing that if nothing matters, nothing must be done. But in the vacuum it creates, you will find only despair. The greatest dragon you must slay is the belief that your existence is meaningless. It is the refusal to accept that you can create meaning in a world desperate for it.
All of us have struggled with these dragons. We have cowered in their shadows, unsure of how to fight back, unsure if we even could. But here is the truth: you are not alone. You are not powerless. The strength to fight, to rise above the suffocating grip of hopelessness, to rebuild the fractured, broken connections that should be your foundation, to care for your body as it deserves, and to reject the hollow promises of nihilism lies within you. Together, we can slay these dragons. Together, we can reclaim the world. You must know the dragons before they know you. And you must fight with everything you have.
