In a world ruled by social media—powered by likes, retweets, and followers—we’re now dealing with a level of comparison that the human race has never had to face before. For many people growing up in small-town America, this is a tough reality to process.

In my town, everyone could be the best at something. You had the best lawyer, the best doctor, the best athlete, the best musician—you get the idea. Everyone knew their place. There was a clear hierarchy, and within that, there was order. With order comes comfort. With comfort, less chaos.

But for the past fifty years or so, college has been the great equalizer—the point where that small-town structure comes crashing down. Suddenly, the town’s “geniuses” who got into top-tier universities become the “dumbest” kids in the room. The star athlete rides the bench. The structure that once gave life meaning and direction is gone.

I believe this collapse is a major contributor to the rise in anxiety, depression, and identity struggles that surface in college-aged people. And it’s not just the former “top dogs” who feel it—it’s everyone. Because when that sense of order disappears, it leaves behind a disorienting emptiness.

And now, the challenge is even greater. It’s not just going from a high school of 2,000 students to a university of 20,000. It's going from a town of 40,000 to being connected—every hour of every day—to 7 billion people. It’s overwhelming. And it shakes the foundation of the all-too-important question: Who am I?

Ironically, this global connection hasn’t made us more in tune with others. It’s driven us deeper into ourselves. People cling to structure because they’re afraid of losing themselves without it.

But that fear of losing ourselves? It causes us to stray even further from who we are—or who we could be. It makes us selfish. We hold tighter to our ideas. We get paranoid that others are trying to manipulate us. We stop listening. We stop talking. We shut down meaningful conversation.

This selfishness, I believe, is at the root of a lot of our anxiety. Because now everything is personal. It’s not just a thing—it’s your thing. Your ego is involved. And when your ego’s involved, even the smallest shit can shake you.

When my dad took his own life, I lived in a fog. To this day, I can’t tell you what happened between two weeks and two months after he died. My life, direction, sense of identity—everything was rattled to a core I didn’t even know existed.

I am not the same person I was before. And for that, I’m so fucking thankful.

I could’ve easily slipped into my vices. I could’ve asked the “Why me?”—a valid question. But asking that would’ve ignored the thousands of people directly impacted by the lower prescription drug prices my dad worked so passionately to make possible.

Rather than seeing this tragedy as some cruel force that singled me out, I started to see it simply as a force. In every part of life, there is darkness and light, chaos and order, yin and Yang. These archetypes have connected the human experience for far longer than social media has existed—long before Jesus, Muhammad, or the pyramids.

When we remove the self from our experiences—when we step back—we allow ourselves to grow. Without the ego whispering what’s “good” or “bad,” we can see things for what they truly are—just things.

So I leave you with the title one more time:
Stop Being Selfish. Start Being Yourself.