The Inner Monologue

Oh, bless your heart. You still think the world is just? How adorable. You must be the kind of person who watches a Disney movie and nods sagely, whispering, “Yes, good always triumphs—just as nature intended.” Meanwhile, the rest of us are over here watching billionaires dodge taxes, politicians lie without consequence, and hardworking people get ground into dust by a system that couldn’t care less.

But hey, don’t let reality shake your faith! After all, there’s a whole academic book—The Belief in a Just World: A Fundamental Delusion by Melvin Lerner—that painstakingly dismantles this fantasy. Of course, most people will never read it because (a) it’s buried in the social psychology section of the library, (b) it costs about $100 (because nothing says “justice” like academic publishers price-gouging knowledge), and (c) let’s be real, the average just-world believer isn’t exactly rushing to question their own delusions.

Yet here we are, with legions of armchair moralists insisting that:

• The homeless must have done something to deserve it. (Ah yes, because no one ever lost a job, got sick, or got screwed by the economy.)
• The rich must be brilliant, virtuous, and wise. (Totally. Inheriting a fortune or exploiting loopholes is exactly the same as hard work.)
• If something bad happens to you, you probably had it coming. (Spoken like someone who’s never been hit by a drunk driver or diagnosed with cancer at 30.)

This isn’t just ignorance—it’s willful ignorance. A coping mechanism for people who can’t handle the idea that chaos reigns, that effort doesn’t always equal reward, and that sometimes, the universe just kicks you in the teeth for fun.

But sure, keep believing in your cosmic balance sheet. Keep pretending that privilege is merit and misfortune is moral failure. Just don’t be surprised when reality—cold, uncaring, and gloriously indifferent—slaps you in the face one day.

The world isn’t just. It isn’t unjust. It just is. And the sooner we accept that, the sooner we can stop blaming the vulnerable and start fixing the actual problems.

(But hey, if you’d rather keep living in a fairy tale, I hear The Little Engine That Could is still in print. Maybe it’ll teach you about “bootstraps.”)