Gaslighting My Inner Child

aka, work hard, don’t play hard.

Originally published on nikaburali.substack.com (February 06, 2026)

What are you doing in the sand castle? That two-level house with a garden and pool won’t build itself! Cut the crap. So you ran around the playground and are exhausted? Boo ho. You’re not that tired. You’re just being dramatic. Get back to work. This isn’t child labor. What are you on about?

A happy meal from McDonalds? For birthday lunch? You’re joking, right. You better get that ass in shape before summer comes.

What do you mean you’re going to hang out with your friends and you’ll be back before it gets dark? You need to buy groceries, deep clean your apartment, and cook dinner. That chicken isn’t gonna thaw itself (Oh wait, it is, nevermind. But mum told you to get it out. Did you?)

Solving math problems? Shouldn’t you be doing taxes instead? Also, why are you listing each country’s capital? Reading under your blanket with the flashlights on? Your brain can’t be fuming from that. No. Your eyes can’t be bloodshed from that. You should be chronically online instead (everyone else is!), so we can be on top of the algorithm.

Squeaky toys and action figures in the bathtub? How did those get in there? There should be lit candles everywhere, while you write in your journal, with a sheet mask on, manifesting your best life.

Stop daydreaming, start girlbossing.
Stop crying, start optimizing.
Stop wondering, start delivering.
Stop feeling, start functioning.

Don’t rest, hustle.
Don’t use your imagination, do as I say.
Don’t explore, pick a niche and stick with it.
Don’t climb trees, climb the corporate ladder instead.

Can you, like, stop rope-jumping with your best friend and just hop on a call?

Alright. Let’s circle back another time. You’re clearly not ready for this yet.

I see here it says you have 3 years of experience. I’m sorry, that’s just not gonna cut it. We’re looking for someone with 30. Next.