Conditional Worth
I grew up in an environment where the essentials were never lacking. My parents did a great job giving me a solid foundation. However, outside the home—and sometimes within it—the world took it upon itself to install a piece of software in me: the software of constant comparison.
The voice that gave life to my insecurity was the one closest to me:
“Why don't you get the grades they do?”, “Why do they get rewarded and you don’t?”, “Why can't you be like them?”
Those questions, though surely born from a desire to see me succeed, sowed a dangerous idea in me: that my value was conditional. I learned that it wasn't enough to be good; I had to be better than the person next to me to earn the pride of those I loved most.
The Endless Race
Later, the formal education system formalized this mindset. It was a confirmation that life was a race with a leaderboard. Compete, stand out, surpass.
The irony is that, for a long time, I wasn't even good at winning those trophies I didn't want. There were no medals of excellence or honor rolls. I graduated with a university degree, and although those were years of stress and I gained the genuine satisfaction of having earned it through the effort it cost me, the feeling of insufficiency remained. In reality, I was just checking a box on a wishlist that wasn't mine.
The Accumulation Bug
It wasn't until I entered the workforce that I finally felt the pieces click into place. When I started earning more money than many of those who were once "the best," I felt I had finally surpassed them. My salary became my first real trophy, the only one the system couldn't question. Finally, the competition had a clear scoreboard, and I was winning.
That momentary triumph made money my world, but it soon mutated into something darker: it became my refuge against uncertainty. In a world that always made me feel insufficient, accumulating became my way of building armor. But I fell into a circular trap: when I don't have enough, anxiety and fear invade me, but when I do have it, I feel just as bad because the goalposts are always moving. I have lived under the dictatorship of a number, believing that peace of mind can be bought.
Shared Fires
This blind search for security has collateral damage. In the midst of this noise, I want to ask my partner for forgiveness. I know that my indecision, my shadows, and the martyrdom of not knowing which dreams to follow have been a heavy burden for her. It isn't easy to walk beside someone who is still trying to put out internal fires, and I deeply regret that my lack of clarity sometimes clouds our present.
Thank you for your patience while I try to separate who I am from who I was told I should be.
The Feed of Insufficiency
I used to compare myself to my classmates. Today, my brain tries to compete with someone else's filtered life. The algorithm knows that nothing keeps us glued to the screen more than envy or the feeling that we are missing something. This is why I became interested in creating my own space: to expose the reality behind what we filter. I want people to know they aren't alone when they have problems, fears, and anxieties.
Breaking the Simulation
At 22, I took my first flight; for some, this comes earlier, for others, it may never come. In my travels, I experienced something I didn't imagine: a genuine satisfaction that didn't need to be validated by anyone to be real.
But upon returning to the screen, this satisfaction vanishes, and I am hit by the nostalgia of ignorance. As an ignorant person, I didn't know there were so many things out there until I discovered them, and then I wanted more. But do I want it because it would make me happy, or because the algorithm convinced me I needed it?
If we deleted social media today and the noise ceased, what would be left at the bottom? It terrifies me to think that we have become an ensemble of borrowed desires, pursuing a "borrowed success" that we might not even like if we manage to reach it.
Hard Reset: Silencing the Noise
Today I stop and ask myself: Whose dream is this? Is it mine, my parents', the system's, or the algorithm's? I recognize that I don't have the answer yet, and it frustrates me. I don't yet know what my real dreams are, but I am starting by identifying which ones definitely are not, so that I can finally let them go.
Perhaps the way back begins by silencing all those voices—those of the past, those of the screen, and those of my own self that constantly attacks—to discover what remains of me when no one, not even myself, is comparing me to anyone else.
I constantly wonder how to break these chains. I want to learn how to let money be just a tool and not the architect that designs my happiness or my misery. I want to stop allowing money to dictate my world, stop soaking my security in that negativity, and start building a sense of self-worth that doesn't depend on what I have, but on who I am when I'm not chasing anything.