Why We Keep Scrolling Even When It Doesn’t Make Us Happy, The Silent War Between Our Dreams and Distractions

The room is dark, except for the cold blue glow of my phone screen.

It’s past midnight again. Everyone else is asleep, and I’m here, scrolling through other people’s lives laughter, travel, perfect lighting, perfect smiles. I know I should close it. I know there’s a to-do list waiting, a book half-read, a prayer I promised I wouldn’t miss. But my thumb moves on its own, like it’s forgotten who’s in charge.

It doesn’t even feel good anymore. It’s just… quiet. Easier than facing the noise in my head.

That’s when it hits me: this isn’t entertainment. It’s escape.

I’ve got plans. Big ones. I’ve drawn the roadmap on paper every step between now and twenty-five, when I dream of becoming rich enough to give my family comfort, to build a peaceful home, to finally breathe without worrying about money. I tell myself it’s possible; I know it is. I’ve seen people start from less and rise higher. But still, every day, a strange gap appears between what I plan and what I actually do.

I end up completing maybe twenty-five percent of my schedule. The rest dies quietly under endless scrolling, short videos, and half-hearted guilt.

And the weirdest part? Even when I’m wasting time, I know I’m wasting it. I can feel the regret while doing it but still, I don’t stop. Maybe you know that feeling too: when your brain says “get up,” but your body pretends it didn’t hear.

The World I See

Sometimes I wonder if everyone else is stuck like this between dreams and distractions, between effort and escape. Because outside the screen, the world isn’t as pretty as those reels pretend.

I’ve seen homes break over small arguments. I’ve seen people who once promised forever stop talking completely. I’ve seen men who work day and night, just to come home to silence; women who give everything, only to be misunderstood. And deep down, I keep thinking: I don’t want that life.

I want peace. I want a wife who listens, who stands beside me through chaos and calm. I want to be the kind of man who can protect his home from the noise of the world. But then, a thought creeps in what if I fail at that too? What if I end up in the same cycle I see around me?

That fear sits somewhere in my chest. It doesn’t shout; it whispers. It whispers when I’m tired, when I open Instagram instead of my notes, when I tell myself I’ll start tomorrow. It whispers: What if tomorrow never really comes?

And yet, I pray. I remind myself that Allah never abandons the one who keeps trying. I repeat it like a mantra when motivation fades. Because deep down I believe even if I stumble, even if I lose track He sees the effort no one else does.

The Generation of Almost-There

We live in a time where everyone is “almost.”

Almost focused. Almost consistent. Almost peaceful.

We set alarms, make plans, save motivational quotes, and then get distracted by the very thing that promised to motivate us. We don’t even notice how many dreams die inside notification sounds.

We’re the generation that knows what’s wrong, but can’t stop doing it. We don’t lack awareness; we lack control.

I once thought discipline came from force that maybe I needed someone to push me, to hold me accountable, to stand over me like a teacher with a danda, making sure I worked. But then I realised: no one can push you every day. Life doesn’t come with supervisors. At some point, you have to become your own guard, your own motivator, your own believer.

Between Dreams and Distractions

Sometimes I sit and imagine what life could look like if I actually stayed consistent if I used every hour I waste scrolling, every night I spend staring at a glowing screen, and poured all of that energy into building something real.

I imagine waking up at 25, not with regret, but with results.

The thought excites me for a moment then fades into that familiar silence.

Because the truth is, it’s easier to imagine success than to earn it.

We all have a version of this story.

We want to make money, live peacefully, make our parents proud, maybe even build a life where our kids won’t struggle the way we did. But between our prayers and our plans, lies this invisible enemy comfort.

Comfort is seductive. It whispers: “Rest a little. You deserve it.”

It convinces us that scrolling is harmless, that YouTube is “just for five minutes.”

But five minutes become fifty.

And one lazy evening becomes a habit that eats our future quietly, without a sound.

The scariest part?

We start getting comfortable with failure.

We say things like “I’ll start fresh next week,” or “maybe I’m just not made for this,” until we stop believing in ourselves completely.

I’ve seen that in myself.

I’ve caught myself wasting time, knowing it’ll hurt later, but still doing it. Not because I enjoy it, but because I don’t know how to face the guilt of not being where I want to be.

The War Within

No one sees it, but inside every “lazy” person lives someone tired of being lazy.

We all want to change, but change asks for war not against the world, but against the part of us that chooses comfort over growth.

It’s a silent war.

One side wants to scroll; the other wants to build.

One side wants peace without effort; the other knows peace comes from effort.

And in that battlefield, discipline is the only sword that wins.

But discipline doesn’t come from self-hate it comes from self-respect.

When you truly believe you deserve better, you stop letting distractions steal your life. You stop being “almost.” You start becoming becoming.

The Fear We Don’t Talk About

Sometimes I think I’m scared of success.

Because success means responsibility and failure gives you an excuse.

It’s easier to say “I could’ve made it, but I got distracted” than to actually put in the work and risk finding out what you’re really capable of.

But there’s another fear the kind we never say out loud.

The fear of ending up alone.

Of working hard, building everything, and still not finding peace at home.

I’ve seen stories where love fades after marriage, where respect disappears, where people stop listening to each other. It scares me not because I doubt love, but because I’ve seen how easily ego destroys it.

All I want is a simple life.

A peaceful home.

A partner who listens.

A family that stays close.

Is that too much to ask for?

Maybe not. But I’ve learned that even peace demands work.

You can’t pray for a peaceful home if you’re not building a peaceful self.

You can’t wish for understanding if you don’t first learn patience.

And you can’t expect love if you don’t first learn how to control your anger.

That’s why I keep telling myself before I dream of success, I need to earn stability inside me. Because without inner peace, even a mansion feels empty.

Faith: The Only Thing That Keeps Me Going

No matter how many times I fail, one thing never changes my belief that Allah won’t abandon me.

Even when I lose consistency, I know He’s watching the effort behind the scenes. The tears no one sees. The nights I promise to do better.

Maybe that’s why I don’t give up.

Because deep down, I know if I can just keep trying, even in small ways, He’ll open the right doors when the time comes.

Sometimes, it’s not about being perfect.

It’s about refusing to quit.

The Breaking Point, The Realisation, and The Rebirth

There comes a point when silence feels heavier than noise.

When you’re not even angry at yourself anymore just tired.

Tired of starting over, tired of pretending you’re okay, tired of being stuck between who you are and who you could’ve been.

I’ve been there many times.

I know the feeling of sitting in front of a book, wanting to study, but ending up scrolling aimlessly, hoping maybe something will change on its own.

It never does.

Every time I lose another hour to distraction, it feels like I’m watching myself drift away from my dreams slowly, quietly, almost helplessly.

And the worst part? Nobody else sees it.

On the outside, people think I’m fine. They think I’m confident, calm, maybe even strong. But inside, I’m fighting a war no one knows about.

The Quiet Collapse

There’s a kind of pain that doesn’t come from failure, but from knowing you could’ve done more.

It eats you quietly, when the day ends and the world goes to sleep that moment when your mind whispers, “You wasted another day.”

You try to silence it, but it doesn’t stop.

Because deep down, you know the truth you’re not living up to your potential.

And that truth hurts more than any insult, any failure, any rejection.

Because it’s you against you.

At some point, I realised this: the problem isn’t that I don’t have time.

The problem is that I keep running away from the discomfort that success demands.

We all want peace, but we forget peace doesn’t come from escaping life. It comes from facing it.

And sometimes, that means being uncomfortable for a long time before anything beautiful grows out of it.

The Moment of Realisation

One night, I sat in complete silence. No phone, no noise, no distractions.

Just me and all the thoughts I’d been avoiding.

It felt heavy at first. The regrets, the unfinished goals, the guilt. But in that quiet moment, something changed.

I realised I don’t hate myself. I just hate the version of me that keeps settling.

And if I want things to change, I can’t keep waiting for motivation to knock on my door.

I have to build it.

I have to start small even if it’s just studying for thirty minutes without checking my phone.

Even if it’s just writing one page when my mind says “leave it for tomorrow.”

Because that’s how strength is built not in big moments of inspiration, but in the tiny, unseen choices we make every day.

And maybe… that’s what rebirth really means.

Not changing overnight, but choosing to rise again and again no matter how many times you fall.

The Rebirth

You don’t wake up one morning and suddenly become disciplined.

You decide every morning, every hour, every time your old habits try to drag you back.

I still get distracted.

I still have days when I lose focus, when I overthink, when I scroll for no reason.

But now, I catch myself.

Now I remind myself that my dreams are waiting and they’re not going to wait forever.

I’ve learned that consistency isn’t about never slipping it’s about returning faster every time you do.

Because the world doesn’t reward perfection; it rewards persistence.

And faith that quiet belief that Allah still has a plan for me even when I keep falling that’s what keeps me standing.

The Gentle Truth

We all want to change our lives, but we keep waiting for the “right time.”

The truth is, there’s no right time there’s only now.

There’s only the moment when you decide that enough is enough.

I think about the future a lot the kind of person I want to become, the kind of peace I want to have, the kind of home I want to build.

And every time I feel lost, I remind myself: peace is not found; it’s created.

And it starts with me.

So yes, I still get scared.

I still wonder if I’ll ever truly make it if I’ll have the life I pray for.

But deep down, I know this:

As long as I’m trying, Allah is guiding.

And maybe that’s all I really need to believe right now.

“The war between our dreams and distractions will never truly end. But every day we choose our dreams even for a few moments we win.”