published in honor of 2026, my 18th year of life on this pale blue dot2026.01.06
I know that a great deal of hurt in life stems from the expectation that life should be fair. If you asked anyone, straight up, “do you think life is fair?” they would probably respond, “of course not.” But knowing that life is unfair on a cognitive level is not the same as responding to life’s unfairness with passivity; the indignation and outrage you feel at XYZ thing — politics, wealth inequality, what have you — can very often be traced back to an implicit expectation of fairness in the world.
I also know that many of the convenient things we tell ourselves to deal with the unfairness of the world may not be true. We tell ourselves that X person will live to regret XYZ, that their moral judgment day is coming, that karma (dharma) will catch up to them. I don’t know if any of this is true. But I know that it doesn’t have to be, because I know I would regret XYZ if I were X person, which is sufficient justification for me to not do it. The world may not be fair on balance, but that is not a reason to compromise yourself.
I know that many of the most productive and highly accomplished people feel worthless. It’s not a paradox in the sense that you might expect — it’s not even simply “correlation rather than causation.” With what I’ve seen in others and experienced firsthand, productivity is often used as a proxy for self-worth. But I also know that:
Using external accomplishments to try to fill an internal void never works. There will always be another step on the ladder, another accomplishment to chase, another way in which you’re falling short, somehow, if you let your worth be defined by others rather than yourself.
I know that the answers to the vast majority of “problems” in your life are not to be found, they are just to be implemented. Almost always, the bottleneck is not lack of knowledge, but lack of willingness to act. Take relationships: everyone knows that communicating and being honest is important to maintain healthy ones, but few have the courage to truly say what they feel. Searching for a new way to deal with the problem can in itself perpetuate it, since you can use “not knowing what to do” as an excuse for delaying what you know you need to do. Next time you’re dealing with a problem, instead of asking yourself what novel approach you’ll need to solve it, ask yourself: what is the fix I know would work, and why am I resistant to implementing it?
I know that everyone simultaneously wants nothing more than to be seen by others, and yet, the prospect of being seen also terrifies us. The latter is why people self-sabotage in relationships; it’s often the root cause of fear of commitment; it drives people to do things they’ll regret.
I know that doing things purely for instrumental gain is draining in its own cold, dead way. Every time you do something that only has value instrumentally, it represents a tiny concession, a tiny drain, on who you are, your identity, what makes you unique and what brings you joy. It seems like the responsible choice, until you look back and realize you’ve spent years living a life that didn’t help you grow in ways you consider important, and that you’ve spent so long deferring your real life and the real you that you’re not even sure who you are anymore.
I know the marshmallow test was debunked, and yet, many still believe that delayed gratification is the end-all-be-all. But I know that if you do not derive enjoyment and happiness from the process of striving itself, you will inevitably find yourself disappointed when the payoff comes; you will feel cheated. And yet, I also know that there is no way for anyone to ‘learn’ this — it must be experienced firsthand. You cannot impart this lesson; people must live it.
I know that hatred of “the other” is almost always rooted in fear, and scarcity mindsets exploited by the political elite, and that it is substantially easier to hate a collective than an individual. This is why engaging with people you disagree with, people who hold opposite political beliefs, people who are from different ethnic and racial groups, is so important. The more people you know from X country, the harder it is to say that “all people from X country are Y.” You keep your own biases in check — and your presence in the lives of others prevents them from likewise being able to generalize about the groups you’re a part of.
My personal theory — well, largely courtesy of my APUSH teacher — is that LGBTQ+ identity became so normalized so quickly because of increased visibility and personal connections with LGBTQ+ people. I’d argue this was a more significant driver of normalization than any other.
I know that sleep is underrated, and the basics are all underrated, for living a good life. You could be a better mattress, or a nice water bottle, or a new type of coffee away from a meaningfully improved life.
I know that comparison can be both the most powerful driver of your life and the thief of all its joy. I know that you need to balance upward and downward comparison to reap its benefits while avoiding its drawbacks to the fullest extent possible. This balancing act, more than any other, is perhaps the supreme struggle of many peoples’ lives.
I know that there is no substitute for competence and agency. There is a quote that goes, “A bird sitting on a tree is never afraid of the branch breaking, because its trust is not on the branch but on its own wings.” If you have competence and agency, you never need to be afraid of the branch breaking; you can trust yourself to find your way, somehow.
I know that most people are one difficult email, one difficult phone call, one difficult text conversation away from an immeasurable relief of mental tension and anxiety. I also know that most people who read this will recognize it as true, and yet, not be pushed to hit send — because there is Fear. Allowing your life to be run by Fear is what will make a life intolerable.
I write this, and I know this, and yet, I still can’t bring myself to hit send, to click the call icon, to have the courage to say to you what I’ve been thinking for the past eight months. That I’m hopelessly enamored, and I know you’re leaving and I have to let you go because we’re definitely not right for each other, but that every time you say you love me and then specify platonically, I feel like screaming.
I know that almost all hoarding is rooted in a fear of mortality. “I won’t let these books go, I’ll get around to reading them someday.” “I won’t give away these clothes, there’s a chance I’ll wear them at some point.” “We can’t give away the DVDs, what if in the future someday, when I have time, I want to watch them, and they’re gone?”
Even knowing this, I will never be able to let go of my books, I will never stop buying more and more and more, telling myself I will read them all someday.
I know that writing is unbelievably clarifying and decluttering for the mind. I also know, both from my dad and from reading a post by Sam Altman, that your future self will desperately have wished for you to keep journals now of what you’re feeling. Future you will want to know you. Please do them a favor and make it easy.
I know by now that there is no future in which the neuroticism stops; there is only a future in which you handle it better. Dear Sophie at 16, you’ll still think all of the terrible things you thought about yourself at 18, but you’re better at sitting quietly and letting it pass, now.
I know that I struggle with the interplay of fate vs. free will, and that I don’t want to believe that either is fully true. I don’t want to believe that my future is predetermined, and yet, I don’t want to believe that everything in this universe is malleable, that things could be based on random chance — because I can’t bring myself to imagine that there is some other universe in which I did not meet you. I want to believe that in another world, in another life, you still would’ve turned my head.
I know that there is a difference between “impossible” and “meaningless.” Just because you know that achieving something is impossible, does not mean your efforts to achieve it are meaningless.
I know that I will never be able to communicate to you, adequately, just how much you mean to me. And yet, I will never stop trying.
One must imagine Sisyphus happy, and Lily Potter cannot bring herself to walk away.
I know that the story of Holden Caulfield (Catcher in the Rye) expressed something profoundly beautiful — there is no greater beauty, no nobler endeavor, no greater joy, than doing for the sake of doing. I will always hold a reverent respect for the hobbyists in the world, the people who knit scarves and carve wood and collect teacups without ever thinking of selling them. The people who have managed to resist the incentives that have corrupted most of us. The people who have found profound peace in their own little ways.
I know that letting go of those you love is always hard — and that not everything becomes easier with practice. The emotions you feel, the depth and weight and shape of the sadness — none of that changes; only, some become better at bearing it, better at not letting the cracks show.
I know that wisdom is measured just as much in knowing what you do not know as in knowing what you do know. In fact, I think the wisdom to admit that you don’t know something is rarer and more precious than the wisdom of knowing.
I know that forgiveness is something you do, first and foremost, for yourself. You are not letting the other person win, you are not losing a battle, you are instead allowing yourself to be at peace.
Forgiveness is letting go of all hope for a better past. Clinging desperately onto hope for something immutable will make you miserable.
However, I also know that forgiveness is hard because of love. I want to love you deeply. I did love you deeply. And that’s why what you did hurt so much.
I know that there is something about reaching states that matters, often more so than being in them — the process of reaching adds significance. As an example, take optimal temperature: the most pleasure and enjoyment is derived from going from states of too hot or too cold to just right, not in always being the perfect temperature.
I know that what other people think of me is none of my business, nor should it be any of my concern. But that doesn’t stop me from wondering, involuntarily, sometimes.
I know that people who are impassioned and in the throes of extremely strong emotions are dangerous, most of all to themselves. I know that there have been moments where I was scarily close to burning a bridge, scarily close to popping a life boat that saved me from drowning only weeks later. I also know that I have never once regretted not burning a bridge.
I am trying to train myself to forgive more easily.
And, finally, I’ll reiterate a theme of the above: I know that knowing all of the above is not always enough to bridge the belief-action gap.