Let me say something that might make me sound out of touch: I don’t think most people are actually angry.
Not really.
Not in the way that the internet makes it seem.

What you’re seeing when you scroll isn’t a mirror of society — it’s a magnifying glass hovering over its itchiest rash. The most divisive, emotionally explosive takes are the ones that rise to the top, not because they’re the most common, but because they work.

Anger drives traffic.
Controversy drives engagement.
Conflict drives revenue.

I’m not saying people aren’t mad. Of course they are — there’s plenty to be mad about. But most of the time, that anger is shaped by what we consume, not just what we feel.

Spend five minutes online, and it’s easy to think everyone is at each other’s throats. But walk through a park. Sit at a bus stop. Listen to the actual sound of real life.
It’s quieter. It’s more complicated. It’s kinder.

But here’s the catch: the platforms we use aren’t built to reflect reality. They’re built to monetize attention — and anger is sticky. It spreads. One furious tweet infects a dozen quote tweets, and before you know it, you’re in a war over something you didn’t care about ten minutes ago.

We need to ask ourselves:
What kind of world do we want our attention to build?

Because where you put your attention is where you put your energy. And where your energy goes, your worldview follows.

I’m not calling for toxic positivity or ignoring injustice. I’m just saying that rage, like sugar, should be consumed carefully. Otherwise, we rot from the inside out.

Brightside isn’t about making everything feel soft and easy. It’s about resisting the manipulation of your attention. It’s a tiny act of rebellion against the idea that the loudest thing is the most important thing.

If we want a better world, we need to stop feeding the rage machine. And start feeding the things that grow quietly. Like ideas. Like compassion. Like forests.