“Maybe you don’t actually want the thing. Maybe you don’t want it enough. Maybe you want the identity of the person that does the thing more than you want the work of getting it. Maybe you want it once and you don’t anymore and you just haven’t realized it yet.” — Lindsiann Shi, Youtube Content Creator
This article is a direct and deeply personal reflection from watching the Youtube video by Lindsiann with the same title. It’s shocking how among the 8.3 billion people on Earth, someone who lives thousands of miles away from you can describe your life so perfectly with a comment section full of similar people. What syndrome is this? What pandemic is this? Actually, is this even a bad thing?
If you’re like me, you probably have five windows and 40 tabs open. You don’t want to close them because you could potentially look at the information when you get the chance. You have Notion pages that keep track of your fitness, wish lists, to-dos and to-watches, ideas for the next trip, packing lists, and more. You click through the perfectly curated, color-coded blocks on your calendar, looking for a weekend when you could go somewhere and do something. Boston? London? New York City? Hawaii? Los Angeles? You refresh the flights page in incognito mode, watch the prices go up, regret not booking earlier, give up and repeat the cycle a week or two later.
You start a new hobby. You really enjoy it for the first three weeks. You buy a matcha bowl, a whisk, ceremonial-grade matcha powder and your favorite milk, only to make matcha twice and let the milk expire peacefully in the fridge. You’ve long wished for a vlogging camera, and you got it. You use it twice and decide that vlogging your life is too tiring, and, even if it’s not too tiring, it’s too much work to learn how to edit — and even if you can edit you don’t have energy to always look presentable enough to film yourself. You start making Instagram Reels or TikToks and realize that you can never be an influencer because there’s so many creative ideas and so many things you want to share, but you’re afraid of judgment from the people you know and the people who might get to know you in the future.
And so your new hobbies disappear one-by-one, just like this. In the end, you return to your signature low-entropy state: doomscrolling on Instagram or TikTok or binge watching a show until your eyes are too tired to stay open. Another perfect day with perfect possibilities wasted. Another perfect dream that could’ve come true but didn’t even begin.
You live at two extremes. You’re either super excited or super exhausted. You’re excited by the million things you want to accomplish, by the constant planning of new vacations or adventures or career paths, by the possibility of being a videographer, researcher, trilingualist, perfect child, perfect sibling, barista, athlete, writer — all at once. Then you’re exhausted by the reality of passing your classes, by waking up in the same body as yesterday, by not being able to be all of those perfect human beings at the same time. You can’t even seem to pursue the ideas one by one. And so you procrastinate, rot, feel guilty, discouraged, beaten. But who is making you feel this way? Sometimes the person making you feel the worst is yourself.
When we are in the middle of a whirlwind and we feel like we’re getting sucked deeper and deeper into it, we just need to ask ourselves: do I actually want to do this? Do I want to keep doing it, or was trying it once enough? Do I want the identity of someone who does the thing more than I want the work of doing it?
To everyone who’s been stuck in the “thinking but never doing” loop, maybe start by going outside for a bit. Try to be honest with yourself about what you really want and need. It’s okay to want it all, and it’s okay to want nothing at all. What’s important is giving yourself the patience and grace to decide on whether the execution is worth it and whether you’ll be happy after accomplishing it all.
Linda Huang is a junior from Rockville, Md. majoring in Biomedical Engineering. Her column celebrates growth and emotions that define young adulthood, inviting readers to live authentically.
