If I had to describe my ideal life, I’d say it doesn’t exist. Or rather: it exists only in the imagination of those who still believe life is something you can design instead of something you simply pass through.

Today WordPress’s resident psychiatrist throws us the usual daily question — the kind you ask children, when they still think the future is a gift already wrapped by their parents. It’s the adults who project their unfinished dreams, their quiet failures, their recycled illusions onto their kids, hoping someone else will do better where they didn’t even try.

Life isn’t a serious thing. It isn’t a possession, a property, or a personal asset. And that’s exactly where humanity slips: believing it can own what was never meant to be owned.

Life is just a fragile gift with two certainties: the day you’re born — printed on your documents — and the day you die — printed on documents you’ll never see.

Everything in between is what we are, what we wish we were, what changes us, and what we eventually become. Consciously or unconsciously, it makes no difference. The “ideal life” is a circus trick, a magician’s illusion. A fantasy that dissolves the moment you stare at it too closely.

Nando

We are born decimal.
Experience turns us binary.
By the time we realize it, we are already considered obsolete.