Category: People

Freedom. It’s a word we all recognize, yet one we each define differently. For some, it’s breaking chains; for others, it’s building boundaries. Sometimes it’s loud—marching in the streets. Other times, it’s quiet—choosing solitude. But no matter how we define it, one thing remains true: freedom is just one facet of the infinite human experience.

Every person is a world of their own, shaped by culture, history, trauma, dreams, desires, and timing. So naturally, our definition of freedom shifts with our circumstances. The version of freedom a refugee seeks is not the same as the version a billionaire chases. The freedom to speak is not the same as the freedom from anxiety. And yet, all are valid. All are real.

But zoom out for a moment. Freedom—like love, truth, identity, happiness—is not a singular destination or fixed state. It’s one shimmering side of a much larger jewel. A jewel we call life.

From every perspective, a new glimmer appears. From the top of a mountain, we see clarity. From the depths of heartbreak, we see vulnerability. From the stillness of meditation, we sense presence. From the chaos of change, we feel transformation. Each moment offers a different angle, a different reflection, a different definition.

That’s the thing about perspective—it gives everything its meaning. What feels like confinement to one may feel like comfort to another. What seems like limitation in one season may become liberation in the next.

So when we talk about freedom, we’re not just talking about breaking free from something. We’re also talking about becoming free for something. For growth. For rest. For love. For simply being who we are, without shame or apology.

Freedom is not the whole story—it’s a chapter. A sentence. Sometimes, it’s a comma—a pause before the next thought.

Because in the end, freedom is not the final answer. It’s just one beautiful question among the infinite:
Who am I, and what does it mean to live fully from where I stand?

And maybe that’s the most liberating truth of all.

Let’s be real.
We’ve been sold this idea since forever: “Chase your dreams, be happy, and everything will work out.”
Sounds nice on a Pinterest board. But here’s the tea:

The pursuit of happiness is kinda sus.

Before you cancel this blog, hear me out.

The Problem with Chasing Happiness

We’re out here thinking happiness is the ultimate goal—like it’s some golden trophy waiting at the end of a rainbow.

But let’s be honest:
You finally get the new phone, the relationship, the followers, the car, the job—and then what?
You’re lit for 3.5 seconds… then back to overthinking at 2 a.m. in your room.

That’s because happiness, as we’ve been taught, is lowkey a trap.
It’s always based on something outside of you—something that can change, fade, ghost you, or break.

So What’s the Real Quest?

Let’s switch it up.

Instead of asking:
“What will make me happy?”

Ask:
“Who even am I beneath all this noise?”

That’s the real quest, the main storyline, the ultimate side quest that turns into the main mission:
Discovering your true self.

Because when you know yourself—like really know yourself—you stop needing every little thing to go your way in order to feel peace.
You stop chasing validation like it’s a limited drop.
You move different. You glow different. You are different.

Real Happiness Is a Byproduct

We’re not saying happiness is fake. But chasing it directly is like trying to catch sunlight with your bare hands.
When you align with your inner truth, your values, your purpose—happiness shows up uninvited. It just walks in like, “Yo, I live here now.”

True happiness = inner peace + knowing who you actually are.
Not just good vibes only
but real alignment.

TL;DR

• Chasing happiness without knowing yourself is like downloading an app with no phone.
• External stuff is cute, but internal peace is the real flex.
• The real pursuit isn’t happiness—it’s you.
• Find yourself, and happiness might just slide into your DMs.

Final Vibe Check

“The pursuit of happiness without the pursuit of your true self is the real fallacy.”
– a wise homie (aka you, maybe)

From the moment we’re born, a subtle program begins to install itself into our consciousness. It’s not malicious, but it is insidious — a quiet mantra whispered into our upbringing, our schooling, our societal roles: You must earn a living. Say it aloud, and you might not even flinch. It’s so normal, so accepted, so woven into the tapestry of our modern existence that we rarely stop to ask, Wait… earn what?

Let’s pause. Take those three words apart: earning a living.

Isn’t it strange — absurd even — that we must earn the right to live? That our mere existence isn’t enough, but must be justified by effort, output, productivity, and performance? That we must do something in order to be granted what is already ours by nature?

A bird does not earn the right to sing at sunrise.
A tree does not file taxes to keep growing towards the sky.
A river does not justify its flow.

And yet, humans — the only species with such complex cognition — have created a system where life itself is something we must pay for. Food, shelter, water, healthcare, time — all fundamental components of life — are placed behind invisible gates, locked with wages, degrees, and hours worked. Somehow, we’ve agreed to this arrangement. Worse, we rarely question it.

We call it “normal.”

But imagine explaining this to a child — not one already conditioned by society, but one fresh, curious, untainted. You’d have to say, “Yes, sweetheart, I know you were born with lungs that breathe air and a heart that beats without effort, but in order to keep doing that — to have a place to sleep, food to eat, and moments of joy — you must labor, sacrifice, and prove your worth every step of the way.” It sounds cruel, doesn’t it?

And yet, we wear it as a badge of honor. “I work hard to earn a living.” We bond over burnout, pride ourselves on long hours, sacrifice our health, time, and passions just to stay afloat — all while the world spins, the sun rises for free, and the earth continues to provide more than enough for all of us… if only we didn’t gate it with made-up systems and scarcity mindsets.

This isn’t to say work is bad. Meaningful work, contribution, creativity, and service — these are beautiful, human things. But work to survive? That’s a prison dressed up as purpose. There’s a vast difference between working to express life and working to earn the right to live it.

We’ve mistaken survival for success.
We’ve glorified struggle.
We’ve turned life into a transaction.

The real question is: what if we stopped chasing the concept of earning life and started experiencing it? What if we returned to the truth that our worth is not tied to our output? That our value is not measured in productivity? That to be alive is already the miracle — and we’ve already earned it just by being here.

So the next time someone says, “I’m just trying to earn a living,” maybe pause for a moment and let the absurdity of that statement sink in. Then smile, because you’ve seen the joke that humanity’s been playing on itself for generations.

And maybe, just maybe, you’ll stop trying so hard to earn life — and start living it instead.

We often hold others to a standard of unwavering consistency. When someone goes against their word, changes their stance, or contradicts themselves, we’re quick to label them as unreliable, hypocritical, or two-faced. But if we’re honest — brutally honest — we must admit that we, too, contain contradictions.

To be human is to be paradoxical.
We carry within us both the desire to be understood and the tendency to hide.
We long for stability, yet we are constantly evolving.
We value truth, yet we sometimes lie — even if just to ourselves.
We hold morals, yet we falter.
We make vows, and yet we forget, shift, change.

These aren’t moral failings; they are thresholds of awareness.
When we see someone break their word, it hurts — not just because they broke it, but because we, too, know what it means to feel split between two truths.
It is only by recognizing the paradox within ourselves that we can offer grace to others.

Contradiction isn’t always hypocrisy. Sometimes it’s growth.
Sometimes, to realize the value of honesty, you must feel the weight of a lie.
To know loyalty, you must encounter betrayal — whether your own or someone else’s.
We can’t understand the light unless we’ve stood in the dark.

So next time someone shows you their inconsistency, look inward.
Not to excuse, but to remember:
We are all learning to become whole — one paradox at a time.