Violence is everywhere.
And what scares me even more is this:
The offenders seem to be getting younger.
I sometimes find myself thinking about the world I grew up in.
Children would play outside until the sun went down. We fought over toys, games, or silly little arguments. Sometimes we went home angry.
But the next day?
We played together again.
We fought.
We cried.
We apologized.
We made up.
And somehow, childhood still felt safe.
Today, I see stories that are difficult to process.
Children hurting other children.
Young people committing acts of violence that seem unimaginable for someone so young.
And I honestly find myself asking:
Are we still living in the same world?
Sometimes, the world around me feels like a place where people are physically alive but emotionally disconnected—moving through life almost like they're on battery mode.
Always connected.
Always watching.
Always consuming.
But somehow, increasingly disconnected from one another.
So what happened?
Some say technology.
Some blame social media.
Others point to violent content, unhealthy environments, poor parenting, lack of attention, or the food we eat.
Perhaps there isn't just one answer.
Maybe it's a combination of many things.
But perhaps the bigger question is:
What have we stopped giving our children?
Maybe we stopped giving them enough time.
Enough conversations.
Enough boundaries.
Enough affection.
Enough opportunities to experience disappointment without immediately escaping from it.
Enough chances to learn that losing a game doesn't mean destroying the person who won.
Enough reminders that anger is normal—but violence is a choice.
And perhaps, somewhere along the way, we became so busy trying to give children everything they need that we forgot to give them something they desperately want:
Our presence.
Children don't just need devices, expensive toys, good schools, and comfortable homes.
They need adults who listen.
Adults who notice when something is wrong.
Adults who teach them how to handle rejection, frustration, jealousy, anger, and pain.
Because emotional strength doesn't automatically come with age.
It has to be taught.
And maybe bringing back the beautiful world we remember doesn't mean going backward.
We cannot stop technology.
We cannot erase social media.
We cannot protect our children from every difficult thing in the world.
But we can still teach them kindness.
We can still teach them empathy.
We can still teach them that another human being's life has value.
We can still teach them that disagreement doesn't have to become hatred.
That anger doesn't have to become violence.
That being hurt doesn't give us permission to hurt someone else.
And most importantly—
we can show them what love looks like.
Not just by saying, "I love you."
But by listening.
By spending time.
By apologizing when we're wrong.
By putting down our phones and looking them in the eyes.
By teaching them that asking for help is not weakness.
By reminding them that no matter how difficult life becomes, they don't have to face it alone.
Maybe the world hasn't completely changed.
Maybe we're simply seeing more of its brokenness because we're more connected to everything happening around us.
But that also means we have an opportunity.
Because every generation gets to decide what it passes on to the next.
We can pass on fear—or courage.
Anger—or understanding.
Hate—or compassion.
Violence—or peace.
I don't know if we can bring back the exact world we remember.
Maybe we shouldn't try to.
Maybe our responsibility is to build a better one.
One where children can still run outside, make friends, argue over something silly, cry, laugh, forgive—and come home safely.
Because the future isn't something that simply happens to us.
We are raising it.
And perhaps tonight, instead of asking,
"What's wrong with this generation?"
we should ask ourselves:
"What can I do today to make the world a little kinder for the people who will inherit it?"
Maybe change doesn't begin with governments.
Maybe it doesn't begin with technology.
Maybe it begins at home.
With one conversation.
One hug.
One act of kindness.
One child being taught that anger can be expressed without hurting someone.
One adult choosing to listen instead of dismissing.
One person choosing compassion when hatred would be easier.
The world may feel darker than it used to.
But darkness has never been a reason to stop carrying the light.
Perhaps we don't need to bring back the old world.
Perhaps we just need to start building a better one.
And it can start with us.
I may not have the right to say this. I am not a parent.
But perhaps that is exactly why I am asking—not to judge, but to understand.
To the parents reading this: What are you doing with your child?
Are you talking to them—not just about school, grades, and responsibilities, but about what they are feeling?
Do you know what they watch, who they talk to, what influences them, and what they're struggling with?
Do they feel safe enough to tell you when they are angry, confused, bullied, rejected, or hurting?
Are you teaching them how to handle anger without hurting someone?
Are you teaching them empathy—not just telling them to be "good"?
And when they make mistakes, are you correcting the behavior while still making them feel loved?
I don't ask these questions because I have all the answers.
I ask because I am worried about the world we are leaving behind.
I may not be a parent, but I am part of this community. I will live in the same world your children will inherit.
And perhaps raising kinder, stronger, more compassionate children isn't only a parent's responsibility.
It is everyone's responsibility.
So maybe the question isn't, "What's wrong with today's children?"
Maybe we should ask:
"What are we teaching them?"
"What are we showing them?"
And ultimately—
"What kind of adults are we helping them become?"