Narrated by Shae Strong and John Golden
Chapter 1: You’re not stressed. You’re just stupid.
You’re sitting there, scrolling on your phone, heart pounding. Rent’s due. Ice caps are melting. Billionaires are launching themselves into space… and you’re still trying to figure out how to afford eggs and milk.
I get it. You’re exhausted. You’re furious. You’re ready to march, riot, break something expensive.
That’s your problem.
The stress? The anxiety? The dread? It’s not because the world is fucked; it’s because you won’t shut the fuck up and let it be fucked.
Stop thinking. Stop feeling. Stop caring. The secret to peace isn’t fighting for justice. It’s pretending injustice doesn’t exist.
Deep breath in. Deep breath out.
There. You’re already getting better.
Chapter 2: Learn to love getting hosed.
Corporate wellness says your problem is resistance. Your resistance to wage theft. Your resistance to corrupt landlords. Your resistance to the fact that Jeff Bezos has a yacht so big it has a baby yacht that follows it around like a lost puppy.
You need to detach. Detach from the need to control things like ‘livable wages’ and ‘basic dignity’.
Mantras for your new life:
- “My suffering is a choice.”
- “Billionaires deserve to breathe clean air while I huff car exhaust at my DoorDash job.”
- “The economy isn’t broken; I am.”
Close your eyes. Deep breath. Imagine a train bearing down on the tracks next to you. It’s society. It’s capitalism. It’s some asshole in a corner office deciding your life is worth less than a stock option.
Now imagine stepping aside and letting it run you the fuck over.
Ahhh. Feel that? That’s peace.
Chapter 3: Be a mindful wage slave.
Mindfulness is so hot right now. CEOs love mindfulness. Do you know why? Because it tricks you into sitting still and being okay with whatever fresh hell they’re cooking up.
Your taxes go up? Be present. Be grateful you have a roof at all.
Boss demands weekend shifts? Let go of attachment to ‘free time’.
Your doctor tells you stress is killing you? Fuck that guy. Be a tree. Trees don’t stress. Trees just exist.
Practical exercises in surrender:
- 1. The Corporate Meditation: Stare at your screen until you dissociate. Let your body be a husk, fingers typing while your soul floats above, watching yourself die one email at a time.
- 2. Zen and the Art of Not Complaining: Every time you feel the urge to complain, eat something. Soon, you’ll either be too full or too dead to care.
- 3. Gratitude Journaling for the Financially Fucked: Every morning, write five things you’re grateful for. An example:
- a. A job (even if it sucks).
- b. A home (even if it’s a broom closet you found on Craigslist).
- c. A semi-functioning body (even if your back sounds like popcorn every time you move).
- d. The internet (even if it’s just for streaming ASMR and mukbang videos).
- e. The sweet, merciful death that will one day take you away from all this.
Doesn’t that feel better? Fuck it, breathe again.
Chapter 4: Unfuck your expectations.
Society promised you something better. The white picket fence, the work-life balance, the idea that if you worked hard enough, you’d be rewarded.
That was the first lie.
The second lie? That you should do anything about it.
Revolutions don’t get people insurance. Protests don’t make Blackrock suddenly grow a conscience. If fighting worked, wouldn’t shit be better by now?
Repeat after me:
- “Justice is a myth.”
- “Resistance is a disease.”
- “Gratitude is the cure.”
You are not suffering. You’re just ungrateful. You want healthcare? Be thankful you’re still alive. You want affordable housing? Ever tried living in a van? Very minimalist. Very demure. You want time to enjoy your life? You sound entitled as fuck.
Close your eyes. Picture the life you thought you’d have. Now, picture yourself setting it on fire.
Good. You’re getting it. Breathe five times in and out.
Chapter 5: Become the perfect citizen.
Step one: Stop having opinions.Step two: Stop feeling.Step three: Work harder and complain less.
At your job, always say yes. Yes to unpaid overtime. Yes to cutting your lunch break. Yes to your CEO’s $50 million bonus. (Never mind that you split your last paycheck between gas and ramen.)
Smile. Nod. Show up early. Stay late. Become one with the grindset bros.
Work until your brain is smooth. Until your body is numb. Until your friends say, “Hey, we never see you anymore,” and you blink because you can’t remember their names.
True peace is never having an original thought again.
Chapter 6: The final test: Dissolve into nothingness.
If you’ve followed this guide, you should already be experiencing:
- - Less stress.
- - Less emotion.
- - Less awareness of self.
Now, let’s finish the job.
Sit down. Close your eyes. Picture yourself melting into your chair. Dissolving into the pixels of your laptop or phone screen. Fading into the background noise of the grind — just another anonymous, mindless drone in a machine that runs on you.
The world is on fire. The billionaires are winning. Everyone else is getting poorer.
But not you.
You’re at peace. You’re floating. You’re fucking gone.
Congratulations. You’ve finally stopped giving a fuck.
Breathe.
Or don’t.
VJ Edwards is a disabled Gen Xer coping through writing.
