It’s wild how much of life feels like playing a rigged game. And not even a fun one, like Monopoly where you can at least cheat by stealing from the bank when no one’s looking. It’s more like some bizarre carnival game you didn’t even realize you were signed up for. Every morning, you wake up, spin the wheel, and hope today’s prize is something better than yesterday’s sad consolation round. But the truth is, you know the wheel’s not stopping on “Car” or “Vacation.” It’s more like “Enjoy Another Day of Overpriced Coffee and Mild Existential Dread.”
And here’s the kicker: we know the game is garbage, but we keep playing. Why? Because the rules say we have to. Go to school, get a job, climb the ladder, buy a house, retire in Florida (or somewhere Florida-adjacent). Don’t ask too many questions, and for the love of God, don’t step out of line. You’re not here to rewrite the rules. You’re here to follow them and maybe win a stress ball or two along the way.
But I don’t know. Maybe I’m tired of stress balls. Maybe I’m just tired, period. Because here’s the thing: the rules were written for a world that doesn’t even exist anymore. Back when following them actually got you somewhere. When working hard was enough to buy a house and support a family and still have time to play golf or complain about the neighbors or whatever people did in the ‘80s. But now? Now it feels like the rules were written by someone who’s never had to unmute themselves on Zoom or calculate whether their paycheck can handle the price of eggs and gas this month.
It’s funny, though. The people who make the rules never seem to follow them. You ever notice that? The ones telling us to grind harder, hustle more, and “think like a CEO” are somehow never the ones actually grinding or hustling. They’re too busy selling books about how to grind and hustle. And don’t get me started on those “bootstraps” people. If I hear one more metaphor about bootstraps, I’m going to lose it. Like, okay, great, but what if you don’t have boots? Or what if someone took your boots and used them to climb over you?
I keep thinking about how much time we waste chasing prizes we didn’t even want in the first place. Titles. Cars. Houses in neighborhoods where you can’t hang laundry outside because it’s considered “unsightly.” Who decided that was success? Who sat down and said, “You know what’ll make people feel fulfilled? An HOA and a lawn that’s slightly greener than the guy next door.”
And the worst part is, we buy into it. We buy into it so hard that we actually feel guilty when we want something different. Like, “Oh, I don’t want to climb the ladder and work 70 hours a week? What’s wrong with me?” What’s wrong with you is nothing. What’s wrong is the ladder. The ladder’s broken, but nobody wants to admit it because then we’d all have to figure out how to build something better.
That’s the thing, though, isn’t it? Nobody tells you that you can just…stop playing. Not completely. You still have to eat and pay rent and live in the world as it is, but you don’t have to play the way they tell you to. You can make up your own rules. Decide what success looks like for you. Maybe it’s running a small business that gives you time to surf. Maybe it’s working just enough to fund your latest art project. Maybe it’s eating a pizza in one sitting and not hating yourself afterward. Whatever it is, it’s yours.
I think about that a lot—how much of our lives are spent chasing someone else’s version of success. Like, did you ever want the fancy job title, or did someone just tell you that’s what you were supposed to want? Did you really care about the corner office, or did it just seem like the thing you needed to prove you’d “made it”? And at what cost?
Here’s the truth: the people who win aren’t the ones who play the game the best. They’re the ones who figure out when to stop playing. The ones who take a step back and go, “Wait a second, why am I even spinning this stupid wheel?” The ones who rig their own game, set their own prizes, and decide that maybe success doesn’t have to look like a PowerPoint presentation with stock images of people shaking hands.
I don’t know. Maybe this all sounds ridiculous. Maybe it’s naive. But I don’t think it is. I think it’s the only thing that makes sense anymore. The rules are fake. The prizes are fake. The only real thing is what you decide to do with the mess in front of you. So why not make it yours?
Oh, and if you want to hear more about all this, I kind of went off in a video. It’s probably better than this rambling mess. Maybe.
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