Drink Up: The Case for Chemical Peace

There is too much rage in the air. Too much tension in the streets, too much anxiety in our veins, too much gnashing of teeth behind white-knuckled smiles. We are a civilization teetering on the edge, our collective nerves fried, our patience worn down to the marrow.

And for what? So we can keep pretending? So we can suffer in silence while the weight of existence grinds us into dust?

Maybe it’s time we stop fighting it. Maybe it’s time we stop pretending that raw, unfiltered human nature is something worth preserving. Maybe, just maybe, it’s time to medicate.

What If the Water Wasn't Just Water?

Imagine a world where every sip of tap water carried a gentle whisper of relief. No more sleepless nights spent spiraling through existential dread. No more clenched jaws and furrowed brows as we navigate an existence designed to break us. Just smooth, effortless tranquility. A chemical embrace dissolving the sharp edges of our reality.

Would that really be so bad?

Think about it. Instead of a society fueled by stress, paranoia, and desperation, we could have one cushioned by serotonin and a carefully calibrated dose of synthetic serenity. The morning rush hour? Just a sea of calm faces, all breathing in unison. The bureaucratic nightmare of daily life? A minor inconvenience, softened by the gentle hum of chemical contentment.

We Medicate Everything Else—Why Not This?

We already do it. Antidepressants in the millions. Stimulants for the overworked. Tranquilizers for the restless. We pick and choose who gets to be numb, who gets to be sharp, who gets to feel. But what if we just leveled the playing field? What if we stopped pretending that some people deserve the sweet relief of medication while others are left to raw-dog reality?

A little MDMA in the reservoir, a dash of Xanax in the pipes—just enough to take the edge off. Just enough to keep us from tearing each other apart in grocery store aisles and comment sections.

Would the world be worse off for it? Or would we finally—finally—know peace?

The Illusion of Free Will

Of course, there would be resistance. There always is. The same people who scoff at the idea of mass medication are the ones drowning themselves in caffeine, alcohol, and doomscrolling-induced rage. They call it free will. They call it agency. But what is free will if every choice leads back to suffering?

Wouldn’t you rather glide through life than stumble through it? Wouldn’t you rather feel good—really, truly, deeply good—than be shackled to the chaotic mess of unfiltered reality?

The truth is, we are already being controlled—by corporations, by algorithms, by systems designed to extract every ounce of our attention, our labor, our joy. If we’re going to be controlled, shouldn’t it at least feel good?

Drink Up

Maybe this is the answer. Maybe we stop pretending that life is meant to be endured and start accepting that it can be softened. That the burden can be shared. That peace doesn’t have to be a distant dream—it can be piped directly into our homes, sip by sip.

Look at the world around you. Look at the mess we’ve made. Look what you made us do.

Now tell me—wouldn’t a little water be nice?