a book nobody wants to read.
teacher: kids, who do you want to become?
kid 1: an astronaut!
kid 2: a rock star!
kid 3: I want to go to the grocery 5,000 times, wash dishes 12,000 times, barely meet 600 deadlines, and spend my life wondering where it all went wrong.
if movies / books / stories / gossip were like real life, who would want to spend money on that? we are suckers for good stories because they allow us to temporarily escape the cages we build through negligence. a path to a lesser goal is so clear our legs walk it on their own. all while our heads are happily constructing complex dreams, narratives, and unlikely situations we want to find ourselves in.
the world doesn’t care about narratives; it debunks them one by one. your life doesn’t want to be a story; you miss its essence while anxiously searching for one story after another.
happiness isn’t something hollywood can show you. you don’t get to discover it until your 10th try. and then it turns out to be in the place you neglected all along — yourself.
do I have a point? I don’t know. this doesn’t have to be a story.