Let me tell you about a film that’s not just a classic but a quiet revolution in the shape of a story. Dead Poets Society. It’s not loud. There are no special effects, no big villains, no explosions. Just a teacher, a room full of boys, and the chaos of discovering your own mind.

In the grand theater of the cosmos, where time bends and starlight travels for millennia, a single human can still make history. When Dr. Mae Jemison looked to the stars, she wasn’t merely seeking celestial bodies she was reaching for something far more elusive: the future of possibility itself.

He’s fine. He looks fine. He jokes around. His Instagram’s curated. He replies, “I’m good,” without flinching. But he’s not. And June, Men’s Mental Health Month, passes by like background noise.