The Narratives – Mohamed Miah

By Mohamed Miah

We are living in an age of noise—where silence is feared, depth is mocked, and value is determined by visibility.

A time where pain is posted, blessings are flaunted, and gossip is no longer a sin—it’s a form of connection.

The Western world has become a theatre, and everyone’s acting.

I’ve watched it happen. Quietly. With grief.

The shift from substance to spectacle.

The rise of self-diagnosis over self-reflection.

The obsession with labels: autism spectrum, anxiety, OCD, ADHD, narcissist, sociopath—just to understand someone who may simply be selfish, manipulative, or unkind.

We don’t discipline anymore. We diagnose.

We don’t correct behaviour—we excuse it.

And while there’s no denying that real mental illness exists—depression, bipolar, schizophrenia, trauma—

there is also a darker truth we refuse to admit:

some people just enjoy the power play.

They feed off making others the punch bag.

They thrive when they’re the storm in someone else’s peace.

They’re not sick. They’re sickening.

And this culture—especially here in the West—doesn’t help. It breeds entitlement.

Not just in children… but in adults too.

We tell people they’re “enough” no matter what they do.

We praise shouting, bragging, taking up space, expressing every emotion in public like the world is a therapist.

We glorify self-love, but forget to teach self-accountability.

We teach young girls to chase six-figure men, luxury, and “soft life” vibes—while scoffing at humility, modesty, or compromise.

We raise boys to be emotionally numb or excessively apologetic—no balance, no backbone.

We’ve replaced respect with sarcasm, faith with filters, truth with trends.

And the saddest part?

We’ve made it look normal.

You can now live your entire life on a screen.

Post your food, your outfit, your home, your car, your body.

Seek likes from strangers while ignoring the people who love you in silence.

Flaunt your marriage, your children, your blessings—and then wonder why your life feels cursed when it all falls apart.

Islam says: “Hide your blessings, walk with humility, lower your gaze.”

The world says: “Post it, own it, flex it—show them what you’ve got.”

I’m not saying don’t enjoy life.

I’m saying don’t waste it performing for an audience that wouldn’t even show up to your janazah.

Our faith teaches us to sit quietly. To seek knowledge. To reflect.

To cry in sujood, not on Instagram and Snapchat. 

To give charity without a post.

To speak less, but mean more.

But that’s the medicine most people don’t want to swallow—

because finding faith requires killing ego.

And in today’s world, ego is king.

Let’s just quietly stay in our lane.

Quietly reading, quietly praying.

Let’s try to unlearn all the noise.

Let’s try to raise families who know respect over reputation, character over clout, truth over trend.

Because I wasn’t made to be a performance.

And neither were you.