
I am staring at my computer screen, watching the blinking cursor mock me as it waits for me to do my job.
A few months ago, I might have been excited about coming to the office. Now, it feels more like an obligation—one of many.
The deadlines, the emails, the weird meetings; it’s a vicious cycle.
Somewhere in the noise of adulthood, I forgot what it felt like to simply exist, to play without purpose, to be free.
I’ve been thinking a lot about this, after “accidentally” (no coincidences in this life) stumbling upon a quote by Carl Jung that goes as follows:
“What did you do as a child that made the hours pass like minutes? Herein lies the key to your earthly pursuits.”
It was as though Jung had placed a mirror in front of me, forcing me to look back at a time when I didn’t have to chase anything.
What have I lost?
What part of myself was left behind in the race to “be productive”?
The essential one.
The more I thought, the more I realized that many of the simple joys I once experienced as a child have been eroded by the demands of capitalism.
Capitalism isn’t just an economic system; it’s an ideology that infiltrates our very lives.
It pushes us to be efficient, to optimize every moment for profit, and in doing so, it steals the precious, unquantifiable things that make life worth living—like the joy of playing, of creating, or even of just being present.
It may sound harsh to some, but capitalism, it seems, has become the thief of childhood joy.

The Childhood I Knew
As a child, time had a profoundly different rhythm.
I remember spending summers playing for hours, lost in a world of my own creation.
I had no money, and yet I was perfectly content.
Whether it was riding my bike through the streets of my neighborhood or building forts with my friends, those moments felt like they lasted forever.
Time was fluid, and I was free to explore and imagine without a care in the world.
But somewhere along the way, that childlike joy started to disappear.
Work became the priority, and playtime seemed like a sin.
The more I embraced adulthood, the more I felt the pressure to perform, to produce, to contribute.
I realized that the world, especially under capitalism, does not value joy for joy’s sake.
It values results.

The Humanization of Labor: A Necessary Evil?
The irony of it all is that, in the pursuit of efficiency, capitalism has slowly dehumanized us—stripped us of our sense of play and wonder.
In books like Brave New World by Aldous Huxley and 1984 by George Orwell, we see dystopian societies where the individual is reduced to a cog in the machine.
This is already our reality.
The goal is not fulfillment, but productivity. In many ways, the corporate world today mirrors these dark visions.
We are conditioned to value our worth by the amount of labor we can provide and the speed at which we can do it.
In Brave New World, Huxley depicts a society where people are engineered to fit into specific roles, and happiness is artificially maintained through consumerism and the drug soma.
The people are not free to explore their creativity or joy, because their sense of fulfillment is externally manufactured. The childlike joy of wonder, play, and imagination is replaced by a world of constant consumption and enforced happiness. 1
984, in a similar vein, shows a world where the individual is stripped of any autonomy, constantly watched by “Big Brother,” and deprived of simple pleasures.
The state dictates every aspect of life, and even thoughts are controlled. These visions, though extreme, offer a chilling parallel to the way capitalism demands productivity at the expense of human creativity and genuine joy.
We’re taught that leisure is for the lazy, that enjoyment is a privilege few can afford.
Meanwhile, companies exploit our time, turning hobbies and passions into side hustles, monetizing every free moment.
The once simple act of enjoying something for the sheer pleasure of it is now tied to metrics, likes, and financial growth.
Even creativity—once a bastion of personal expression—has become commodified.
Just look at how social media turns art into a form of advertisement for oneself.
It’s as though we are all caught in a race with no finish line, constantly chasing after something—success, recognition, wealth—without ever stopping to ask ourselves why we started running in the first place.

A Story from My Own Childhood
Let me paint a picture for you—a scene from my own childhood. I was about ten years old, a time when life still felt like a grand adventure.
My friends and I would spend entire afternoons building forts in the woods, using nothing but branches, mud, blankets, and our own imagination.
There was no “outcome” to these activities, no discernable end goal. We simply played. The hours would melt away in the simplicity of it all.
Fast forward to today, and the landscape has shifted.
As an adult, I no longer build forts, nor do I have the time to. Now, I spend my evenings in front of a screen, clicking away at deadlines.
There’s little time for imagination anymore. Even when I try to recreate that feeling, it feels… wrong. My mind pulls me back to the list of tasks awaiting me.
Looking back, it’s clear to me that I’ve been conditioned by the very system I’ve come to accept as “normal.”
And like so many others, I’ve traded the pleasures of childhood for the demands of a world that values efficiency over everything else.
A Movie Example: The Truman Show
A cinematic parallel to this is found in The Truman Show (1998), where Jim Carrey plays Truman Burbank, a man unknowingly living his entire life inside a reality TV show.
From the moment Truman wakes up to the moment he falls asleep, his world is carefully constructed and manipulated.
Every aspect of his life is curated for entertainment and profit.
Truman’s childhood, too, is carefully fabricated, and even his relationships are scripted to ensure his life stays “on track.”
He’s denied the spontaneity and true freedom that comes with a genuine, unmediated existence.
Truman’s entire world is a manufactured version of life, where even his joy is commodified for the benefit of the corporation running his show.
As Truman starts to question his surroundings and yearns for something more, he represents the moment we all face when we realize that we have been trapped in a cycle of consumption and productivity.
Truman’s longing for truth, for something real, mirrors the part of ourselves that yearns to break free from the shackles of a capitalist world that constantly demands more of us, stripping us of our authenticity and our joy.

A World of Machines and Money
This is where we are now. We live in a world where the human spirit has been distilled down to productivity, where every second is measured against its potential for profit.
And it’s only going to get worse before it gets better…
As corporations continue to grow, their insatiable appetite for profit will only deepen. In their race to maximize earnings and stock price, they will push for longer work hours, faster output, and more invasive technologies that leave little room for true human connection.
We’re already seeing it—the automation of jobs, the constant surveillance, the pressure to perform at all times.
Where does this leave us? More specifically, where does this leave our children?
A Table: The Evolution of Childhood Under Capitalism
Era | Childhood Experience | Economic Influence | Impact on Childhood Joy |
---|---|---|---|
Pre-Industrial Age | Free play, exploration, learning from nature | Agrarian economy, family labor | Time for curiosity and growth |
Early 20th Century | Organized games, school, some family time | Industrial revolution, labor laws | Loss of spontaneity, structured time |
Post-WWII | Suburban play, family-centered, limited media | Consumerism, mass production | Rise in material desires, focus on success |
Modern Era | Digital play, structured schedules, pressure to excel | Tech-driven, gig economy | Decreased imagination, constant hustle |

A Distant Hope
So, what do we do about it?
The truth is, I don’t know.
The system is too vast, too entrenched in every fiber of our lives.
But as I write this, I think about Jung’s words, about the things that once made the hours pass like minutes.
Perhaps there is still time for us to reclaim some of that lost joy.
It’s not easy. In fact, it feels impossible at times. But maybe, just maybe, by holding onto the fleeting moments of creativity, play, and imagination, we can preserve something of the child we once were.
In the end, it’s not about fighting capitalism head-on (I’m not sure how that would even look).
But maybe we can carve out small pockets of resistance, moments where we can let time slip away, even if only for a little while.
Because if we don’t—if we continue to let this machine of growth and profit grind on unchecked—what will we have left?
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