Is the grass really greener on the other side?
I think throughout my life, I have always yearned for the next thing—the next phase, the next step, the next promotion. Looking back, I think I believed that the next thing was always better. The next step usually represented an escape from everything I hated about where I was. Growing older in a time where social media has exploded has not made things easier. Even when I wasn't seeking it out, it was constantly being presented to me: some random person with a collage on their page representing all the milestones I was longing for. Everything curated to make you feel like everyone is living this perfect life and you're missing out on something. Even the most contented person would eventually succumb to the external pressure. Why does my everyday life seem like a repetition of the previous one? Why is my progress only measured over the years and not months? The path I have decided to tread seems longer and takes more sacrifice. I put more pressure on myself, feeling dissatisfied...