Why Nobody Actually Cares About What You Do.

Initially, there exists within me a certain inclination to harbor the notion that I hold a position of paramount significance — one that renders me the focal point of widespread preoccupation in the lives of others.

This sentiment, however, is one that I have come to recognize as a personal disposition rather than a universally applicable truth.

In periods of introspection, I find myself standing in front of the mirror in my bathroom, meticulously tending to the arrangement of my hair, while concurrently dash down the flight of stairs with an exuberance that reflects a perceived spotlight on my actions.

However, upon closer inspection, it is readily evident that others around me are preoccupied with their own hopes, problems, and hobbies.

Indeed, the irony is that, despite my proclivity for self-centered views, the world as a whole runs with a strong emphasis on individualism.

This revelation serves as a reminder that the grand fabric of existence is woven with threads of personal journeys, with each individual traveling their own road.

There are times when my impulsiveness takes over. These impulses reflect my unrestrained interaction with the environment around me, whether it’s a spontaneous want to ascend the robust branches of an inviting tree or an impish yearning to leap into a playful puddle of water.