Priced Out of Being Human

I became a creative because I cared.

That is the first mistake.

I thought empathy was a strength. That listening mattered. That understanding context, people, nuance, and intent would be rewarded. I believed good work spoke for itself. I believed if you helped enough, eventually the system would meet you halfway.

It does not.

The corporate world does not eat talent first. It eats kindness. It senses uncertainty the way sharks sense blood. Every bid becomes a test, not of skill, but of how little you think you are worth. Every budget conversation quietly asks how desperate you are willing to sound.

I remember early proposals. Thoughtful. Underpriced. Apologetic. Long emails explaining why the work mattered, why the client mattered, why I was flexible. I mistook generosity for strategy. I mistook being agreeable for being professional.

Nice does not survive procurement.

Nice gets reframed as optional. As easy to replace. As something that should be grateful for exposure. Being nice teaches people how to discount you without guilt.

The worst part is not the rejection. It is the slow internal rewrite. You start questioning your instincts. You soften language that should be firm. You preemptively cut your price. You say yes when your body is screaming no. You convince yourself this one project will lead somewhere better.

It rarely does.

Over time, you learn the unspoken rule. Empathy is only tolerated when it does not interfere with margins. Creativity is only valued when it can be controlled. Care is only welcome if it comes cheap.

So you harden.

You learn to withhold. To speak less. To quote higher. To stop explaining. You build armor out of contracts, boundaries, and silence. You become colder not because you want to be, but because rent exists. Because time exists. Because generosity without power is just self harm.

They will call you difficult when you stop bending. They will say you have changed. They will miss the version of you that did not know better.

What they mean is they miss the version they could afford.

This is the horror no one warns you about. Not that the world is greedy, but that surviving it requires you to amputate parts of yourself you once thought were the point.

You do not become a monster because you enjoy it.

You become one because being human is priced out of the market.

-Stanley, Brutally Human