To be or Not to be

Should we have choices at all? Choices make life difficult. The moment we choose, we create a parallel life—one that haunts us, whispering what-ifs in the quiet moments. It’s almost as if the things we don’t get become the most important, while everything we do have slowly fades, losing meaning over time.

The romanticizing of another partner, the over-glorification of another career, the longing, the deprivation—yes, deprivation. "If I had her, I would be happy." "He would make me feel like a million bucks every day." "If I were an artist, I would finally be free." "My career would've been better if I were in the US."
"If I had a child, I would find meaning" These thoughts creep in, re-shaping reality, making the present seem dull, lesser.

Maybe it isn’t about the choice itself. Maybe it’s about the hunger. The chase. The quiet desperation for something just out of reach. Is it a need to be challenged, to struggle, to prove something? Or is it something deeper—a restlessness that never quits, an emptiness that no amount of having can ever fill?

And if that’s true, then what? Are we doomed to always want what slips through our fingers? To feel the weight of everything we didn’t choose pressing against our chests? Or can we ever learn to sit still, to want nothing, to just be?

But maybe that’s the hardest thing of all.

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