A REFLECTION on how modern life has numbed us into survival mode while calling it progress.
There comes a moment, somewhere between the rush of dawn and the fatigue of night, when you pause mid-routine and realize your life is moving, but you’re not.
You wake up, mumble a prayer, rush through breakfast, scroll endlessly, reply to messages, chase work, grab a quick meal, maybe laugh at something online, then collapse into bed only to repeat it all again tomorrow.
Days melt into weeks, weeks blur into months, and before you know it, you can’t even remember the last time you truly felt present. You’re existing, yes breathing, functioning, surviving. But living? That’s another story entirely.
It’s not that people don’t want to live; it’s that life itself has quietly shoved many into autopilot.
I once watched a man at a hospital waiting to see a doctor. His name was called over and over, yet he sat still, eyes vacant, staring into nothingness. It wasn’t pride or defiance, he had simply zoned out. When he finally blinked back to himself, he looked startled, like someone returning from a long internal journey. That, right there, is what exhaustion looks like in this age, silent, unnoticeable, and frighteningly normal.
Then there was a story I stumbled upon on X (formerly Twitter). Two men were by the roadside in Dakata, trying to board a keke. One kept shouting, “Bata!” while the other insisted, “Dakata!” After a few minutes of confusion, the one heading to Bata looked at his friend and asked, “But you’re going to Dakata, right?”
His friend laughed and replied, “Ah, I was actually going to Bata. This is Dakata!” They both laughed and said, “Life is showing us pepper,” before hopping into the same keke heading to Bata.
Funny but also not. Because that moment of confusion, that mental drift, is happening everywhere.
Not long ago, I saw something that stayed with me. A woman stood by the market, shopping bags in hand, waiting for a ride. Her phone rang. She answered softly, then suddenly tears began to roll down her cheeks. No loud sobs, no drama, just quiet tears, wiped away quickly before she crossed the road. The world around her didn’t stop: cars honked, traders haggled, life went on. Nobody noticed.
That’s our reality now, everyone carrying something heavy, silently, while pretending to be fine.
People forget things mid-sentence. They lose focus mid-conversation. They zone out while driving. They scroll through hours of nothing on their phones. Even children, once sharp and curious now say “I forgot” more often than they should.
We are witnessing the slow erosion of attentiveness. Maybe that’s the real sign of a world too tired to feel.
We’ve replaced living with surviving. The things that once brought us joy, a shared meal, a quiet evening, a simple walk now feel like interruptions to our schedules. We post quotes about peace yet can’t sit still with our thoughts for five minutes. We celebrate birthdays but rarely reflect on growth. We’re chasing deadlines, money, validation and the finish line keeps moving further away.
But living doesn’t always mean chasing grand adventures. Sometimes it’s as simple as paying attention.
Feeling the coolness of water as you wash your hands. Savoring your food instead of swallowing it between calls. Looking at the faces you love without reaching for your phone. Pausing really pausing, long enough to be.
To live again, maybe we need to do less, not more. Speak slower. Walk without earphones sometimes. Write things down with our hands again. Reconnect with people offline. Laugh from the stomach, not from emojis. Let silence stretch a little longer without feeling the urge to fill it.
Because maybe the real challenge today isn’t how to live a long life, but how to live fully in the one we already have.
So, ask yourself sincerely, are you truly living, or just existing?
Voice just cleared its throat!
- Kabara is a writer and public commentator. Her syndicated column, Voice, appears every Monday in the News Point Nigeria newspaper. She can be reached at hafceekay01@gmail.com.