Not the kind you’re guzzling in your 3-liter Hydro Flask because TikTok told you hydration fixes your trauma. I’m talking about the metaphorical kind. The invisible stuff you’re swimming in right now.
You wake up. You scroll. You coffee. You commute. You nod politely at Gary in accounting. You vaguely contemplate faking your own death during a Zoom call. Then it’s lunch. A couple meetings. More scrolling. Dinner. Netflix. Sleep. Repeat.
This is water.
It’s the default setting. It’s the “normal.” And it’s killing you quietly — not with drama, but with dullness. Like being slowly strangled by a beige throw pillow from IKEA. You’re not technically suffering. But also, are you even alive?
Most people? They don’t think. They just react. Like a broken vending machine that spits out rage, dopamine hits, or empty sarcasm depending on what button life punches that day.
Here’s the mind bomb: Learning to think — really think — is a survival skill.
Not the “read 50 books a year and quote Naval Ravikant on dates” kind of thinking. I’m talking painful self-awareness. The kind that makes you question:
Because if you don’t think, someone else is doing your thinking for you. News flash: that someone doesn't have your best interests in mind. They probably sell “mindfulness crystals” on Etsy.
Default thinking is convenient. Comfortable. It’s that mental fast-food combo that feels good in the moment and rots your insides over time.
Default thinking says:
WAKE UP.
Default thinking is why midlife crises now start at 28 and involve ketamine retreats in Tulum.
Thinking is hard because it’s unsexy. It’s not a biohack. It’s not a TikTok dance. It’s brutal inner work that sounds like:
“Maybe I’m not mad at the world… maybe I’m just scared I’m wasting my life pretending to be someone I’m not.”
Cue existential vomiting.
But that’s the point. When you learn to think, you can choose your story. You stop reacting. You start creating. You become the author, not the algorithm.
You’re not a cog. You’re a damn creator.
You’re not insane for feeling overwhelmed. You’re not broken. You’re not “bad at life.”
You’re just swimming in water, and nobody told you it was water.
But now you know.
And knowing is step one. Step two? Choose to think. Relentlessly. Awkwardly. Honestly. Think until you cringe. Think until you cry. Think until you laugh in public and someone asks if you’re okay.
You are. You’re just alive for the first time.
So next time you feel like you’re losing your mind?
Ask yourself: What’s the water I’m swimming in? And do I really want to keep floating this way?
Just saying. And more to follow.
