BeltToA**
BeltToA**
By Dr. Feels
Let’s not sugarcoat it:
Gen Z might’ve missed a few good ol’-fashioned a** whoopings.
Not the belt-for-breathing type, not the trauma kind — I’m talkin’ discipline. Soul check. Wake-up call. Some grounding for that God complex we wear like vintage Carhartt.
We showed up late to the game and started critiquing the rules. We questioned everything but earned nothing first. We post like prophets but crack under comment sections. And yeah, sometimes, we are too soft for a world that don’t care if you got social anxiety or a side hustle selling bath crystals.
And the elders? They watching us from the porch, arms folded, mumbling:
“These kids need their a** beat.”
Round 1: The Read
Y’all not wrong.
We do run our mouths behind hashtags and mental health quotes we don’t even apply.
We do demand space without offering substance.
We do weaponize softness like it’s strength, but never carry the load that comes with real responsibility.
We ghost like it's gospel.
We romanticize dysfunction and call it "aesthetic."
We want soft life with none of the hard-earned scars that made it possible.
We want to get paid for existing. And the moment someone critiques us, we call it “energy we don’t claim.”
Sometimes, we do need that belt — not across the back, but across the pride.
Round 2: But Before You Swing That Belt...
Hold up. Before you judge us too fast, ask yourself this:
Who raised us?
Who left us in front of the screen, fed us capitalism, taught us grind over grace, pushed trauma under the rug so long the rug turned into roots?
Y’all told us to dream — but in the same breath, mocked us for dreaming out loud.
You said "speak up," then called us disrespectful when we questioned broken systems.
You called us lazy, while we juggled inflation, tuition, depression, and a 40-hour week with side hustles, student loans, and sleep-deprivation-induced dissociation.
Don’t confuse our silence with stupidity or our breakdowns with weakness. We’re just the first generation expected to fix what everyone else pretended wasn’t broken.
Round 3: Salute the Real Ones
Let’s not pretend we ain’t standing on some shoulders.
To the elders who held it down — through war, through marches, through civil rights and silent nights with empty fridges and full hearts — respect.
To the ones who wiped our tears, even when no one ever wiped theirs — you’re the blueprint.
To the grandmas who prayed over our restless spirits, and the uncles who taught us how to fight without swinging — you are the reason we’re still here.
We may’ve missed your belt, but we didn’t miss your sacrifice.
Round 4: Rise, Rewire, Repeat
We’re not hopeless. We’re reprogramming.
Yes, it’s messy. Yes, it’s slow. But healing is hell before it’s heaven.
We’re learning that real love requires labor.
That softness ain't weakness.
That accountability is a love language.
That crying don’t mean quitting — and compassion ain’t the opposite of strength, it’s the proof of it.
We're building with what's left.
We are the glitch in the matrix.
And if we’re doing it all wrong — at least we’re doing it consciously.
So go ahead — hand out the belt if you must. Just know we ain’t standing still.
Because we’ve been beat down by more than hands.
And still, we rise.
Take a dose of that… and see me in the morning.
— Dr. Feels
