The construction behind my life depended on too many frail rules. Now they are all falling apart. What a sight.

What a momentous day to reflect and absorb much-needed insight.

I was staring at the computer screen typing on my screen when suddenly, I felt a huge relief. A drop in weight. My shoulders dropped down intending to rest.

It was a noticeable drop and eventually halted any typing.

My fingers are still in position, but my mind is trying to hold on to the last intriguing thought.

The thought read like a question but spoke like a statement. It left me dumbfounded.

“Why is my life built on these frail rules? Couldn’t I just attempt to live?”

Let me share a bit more context.

For the many years that I have been conscious of my living, I have tried my best to optimize my life. I have read the how-to guides, devoured medium’s endless productivity articles, and even ventured past the first 10 pages of google’s search results: all in the name of “I could probably do something here.”

I guess I am partly curious, but I wouldn’t hurt my self-image if I say I’m slightly OCD when it comes to the order of my life.

I prefer things where I left them. I prefer things how imagined them. I accept opposing ideas as a threat.

For the most part, this type of living has helped me excel: all in the name of perfection.

I have redone many things. I don’t believe in fixing things. I believe in totally starting over, or buying again.

In the end, I accumulate so many bags, in the words of Erykah Badu, that I end up dragging around.

Even with great intention, I manage to elongate the process even longer and frustration develops.

At this point, I should probably forget about being productive.

I should just take a break and brew some mecha green tea.

That’s probably a good call.