I did it. A few days ago, I succumbed to the Substack craze. That isn’t to say the curiosity wasn’t always there, clicking links on stories or Instagram bios, but I finally took the leap and downloaded the app. I joined the New Economic Engine for Culture. Whatever that means. (I like to think that I do). 

What happened next, anyone could have predicted. A brand-new digital obsession, one that lets me sit on a pedestal for a bit. It feels more intellectual and the audience is different, so it has to be more intellectual. Instead, I’m faced with my own inadequacy. 

God. How I wish I could think like that.

That’s it, that’s the post. That unfortunately, you’re wasting your time reading my work when thousands, if not millions, out there are writing things with true substance (who decides what true substance is?) With some writers, it feels like something just clicks. They’re saying what I want to say but never found a way to. Writing down thoughts I know I’m capable of having. Taking words out of my mouth that were never there before but are there now. 

Wanting is a double-edged sword. There’s this guilt accompanying the dissatisfaction, that everything I do, nothing is good enough. Flip the narrative. 

Go on, flip it. I dare you. 

Chasing the big-unknown-something relentlessly can be a perverse decision, for some. Of late, I’ve learned that I’m missing the entrepreneurial spirit everyone around me seems to have, and I did question whether the thing I’ve been chasing is worth it if it isn’t completely mine. [This is all wrong, by the way.]

How absurd. A smaller mark, yes, but mine nonetheless. This is testament. If Leviathan does arise and all the conspiracy theories are true, this corner of the internet has my fingerprints. [The internet is made up and print is dying. I’m a dead woman walking but that’s beside the point.] 

No, don’t be the person who’s constantly discontent. Find pockets of contentment, that space when you knew nothing but what’s in front of you. That book, the sound of sleet hitting the window, the nachos that only one person is allowed to make for you, the hand in yours that feels like forever. That said. 

Don’t be complacent. Beg for more, make space for more. Be discontent appositely! At 21, if your knees aren’t scraped from trying, running after whatever it may be, do better. Struggling has been glorified, romanticized even, and wrongly so; that isn’t my approach. Don’t err on the side of caution. Throw it to the winds, rip that safety net (that you so carefully set up for yourself) out, ask for the impossible. If you won’t have the audacity for yourself, who will? 

Regret will be my Hell Loop. And I refuse to let that happen. The discomfort that exists right now, the lesser-than-thou feeling, use it.

The jealousy that walks through the doors with each enviable article, it pushes me to ask myself to be a better writer. I’m following people I find impressive. Of course there will be inadequacy. It gives me something to aspire to. I don’t want to read another Hot Take. I want to be the creator of a Hot Take, give you something to think about. 

So, as an Expert on All Things Social Media, with the assumption that you are too, and a [classy] Reddit lurker, I ask you: AITA for Always Being Discontent? 

Things I want: 

• the glass ceiling to disappear 
• time
• expertise on cheese and chocolate/candy pairings (look it up!) 
• the successful adoption of underconsumption 
• a name??
• the deepest possible smile lines (to be measured on my deathbed)
• a job
• to lose the laziness
• ice skates 
• pictures > videos
• the ability to reject sudden, unwanted moments of apathy 
• more doing, less saying 
• books!! (Ask for the list, please)
• self-awareness (for others, not me)
• maximalism
• self-worth
• suggestions for new website names
• to do hard things
• a pink imac
• cute work outfits