𝐋𝐞𝐭’𝐬 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 ‘𝐈𝐟 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲’.

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We are all travellers of imaginary worlds, going on elaborate trips of lives we never lived. At every fork in the road, we made a choice. We chose the only path we could see, the one illuminated by the light we held at that moment, a light made of who we were, what we knew, and all we had already lived. We walked it. That path became our reality. You chose a particular academic stream, a specific job, and the one partner you married.

But the mind is a restless time traveller. It flees the present to wander a ghost road. A path of pure potential, forever smooth and sun-dappled, where every sign points toward a brighter destination. 𝐈𝐟 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲. If only I had taken that job, married that person, stayed in that city. The refrain is a siren song, convincing us that somewhere, just out of sight, is a version of our life untouched by this specific pain, unmarked by this particular regret.

It is a beautiful, devastating illusion. On that other path, we imagine the person we did not marry remains forever charming, the career we abandoned forever fulfilling, the freedom we sacrificed forever joyous. We grant them a static perfection, freezing them in a single moment, while we alone are forced to change and age and weather. We never imagine the layoffs, the quiet betrayals, the slow drift apart, the mundane disappointments that are the bane of any existence. The path not travelled is a museum of best-case scenarios, curated by our present discontent.

We do this because it is easier than accepting the beautiful, terrifying chaos of life. We crave a simple story: one mistake, one wrong turn, one decision that explains every current struggle. But life is not a single thread; it is a vast and tangled web. Cause and effect cascade in ways we can never predict. The misery you feel now might have found you on any path, wearing a different disguise.

To constantly journey into that phantom life is to abandon the only ground that is real. It is to blame your past self for not having the map your present self holds. It is a form of self-betrayal.

The truest freedom does not come from finding the right path, but from ceasing to haunt others. It comes from turning your back on the ghost light and looking, with clear eyes, at the road you are actually on. It is rocky, it is worn, it is yours. It is the only one that leads forward. Stop comparing your reality to a fantasy. Build your dreams here. This is the only place it will ever fructify.