The Confusing Journey We’re All On

Life of course. Born into it with nothing more than our bodies. Equipped only with our brains and expected to achieve greatness? The expectations I have for myself are very high and always have been. Lately, well, actually because of a very specific recent moment, I’ve been questioning those expectations. I quit my job because it wasn’t making me happy. I have no-one to look after but myself, why stay somewhere I hate going every single day? Feeling more and more like a robot with each passing hour.

Were my expectations been pressured externally? Yes. Rarely are we shown an alternate path to happiness. The almighty dollar is shaken in our face every day, and we’re driven to pursue that. To pursue status. To get a certain job. Why? Success.

Is it success though? Is success sitting in an office that you hate every single day? Is success yearning for the weekend? Is success spending more time worrying about senseless things like deadlines and profits? Or is success learning that none of that actually matters? That what you do does not define who you are. That the guy delivering pizza is the same as the CEO — because your job is simply a label that’s been put on you to earn imaginary things we call dollars.

Why is success not learning about yourself, being equal with others, loving nature & the city, finding balance, being inspired, loving with no expectations? To me, success can no longer be found in a title or on a bank statement. I’m not quite sure yet what it is, but I’m happy to try and find it somewhere I haven’t been told to look.

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