Intoxicated by the-grass-is-greener-on-the-other-side-of-my-fence syndrome, caught up in the illusion that had-we-made-a-different-choice-we’d-be-happier. Too much to choose from is one good reason to never settle the fuck down. Always on the run to catch the next best thing, because even perfection is no longer good enough. We walk around with our laundry lists of infinite criteria, refusing to level down on our unattainable standards.
We buy something only to fantasize on our way back home what it would have been like had we chosen a different product, flavor, color, size, you name it. We are junkies for this thing called self-inflicted misery. Gratitude and appreciation make for lovely captions on social media, what a good way of maintaining our I’m-such-a-role-model persona.
Ultimately, it doesn’t matter the choice we make. Be it a partner, a career, a car or a house - we need to understand that all of them will make their time. You can’t escape from the grip of hedonic adaptation. The excitement of any new endeavor fades away in the blink of an eye. With that being said, sure, choose wisely, but don’t expect your choice - whatever it may be - to bring you everlasting happiness. (That’s an inside job that can’t be attached to circumstances external to you)
We keep our options open because choice. We want to make the best humanely possible choice. At all times. Why? Because we like to tell ourselves we only deserve the very best in life. Others rarely If ever measure up to our standards, but us, yeah us, we don’t need to be held accountable cuz we’re just special by nature, you know? We get a free pass each time we play this game called double standards. Prove to me that you’re the best choice. But me? No I don’t need no proving. The privilege of being narcissism’s little bitch.
