The Beautiful and endless 'Better' trap

“Greed is a bottomless pit which exhausts the person in an endless effort to satisfy the need without ever reaching satisfaction.”

~ Eric Fromm

I’d built a life around a single idea: ‘When I get there, I’ll be happy.’ I told myself this every day. ‘This is the perfect story,’ I’d whisper as I studied, worked out, or wrote. I pictured each step as a ticket to something big. Writing? Not a goldmine, I thought, but it’d bring fame. Exercise? That’d earn me admiration. Studying? That was my rocket to the sky. I believed these were the pieces that would make me—define me. But then it hit me: they weren’t the whole story. Sure, they could add to it, spark something, but they weren’t the must-haves I’d made them out to be. My perfect story didn’t need them to be everything—just parts of something real.

☛ What is a Perfect Story? Why isn't it enough?

Why? Why don’t money, admiration, and fame make the whole story? I used to think they were the plot—study hard, get rich; write well, get famous; work out, get praised. But they’re not the endgame. They’re pieces, not the picture. I realized this chasing them: they glitter, but they don’t fill you. So what else do I need—what do we need? We all have our own ‘perfect stories’—our dream lives, our chapters—but strip away the exceptions, and we’re not so different. Our basic needs overlap: food, shelter, love, purpose. A perfect story isn’t about getting everything. It’s about having enough—enough to cover the basics, sure, but also enough to reach beyond, to grab something more, something ours.

☛ The Endless 'BETTER' Trap

There’s a point where our basic needs—food, shelter, love—are met, and we start reaching beyond. That’s when we think the ‘perfect story’ kicks in, right? But here’s where the plot twists.

The first thing that creeps up is social image. ‘My watch is a GMT, but a Rolex? That’d be better—flashier, pricier.’ ‘Sure, I’ve got a Toyota Cruiser, but a BMW would turn heads.’ We chase better. I chased better. We get it, then spot something more better—and it never stops. ‘Oh, nice house, but a mansion’s the dream.’ ‘Good job, but CEO’s the goal.’

It’s an endless loop, a treadmill with no off switch. The thing we miss? There’s always something shinier, higher, fancier. ‘Better’ isn’t a finish line—it’s a mirage.

☛ The Double-Edged Desire

The desire for better isn’t the villain—it’s what keeps humans moving, evolving. It’s why our tech gets sharper, our lives longer. Progress needs that fire. But when it slams into the hunger for luxury, it twists into an endless trap. ‘My phone’s fast, but the newest model’s sleeker.’ ‘This house works, but a penthouse screams success.’ The drive for better—noble on its own—morphs into a beast when it’s about status, not substance. I felt it: a GMT watch wasn’t enough; I eyed a Rolex. A Cruiser rolled fine; I dreamed of a BMW. It’s not evolution anymore—it’s a mind game, control slipping as ‘better’ turns into ‘more.’

I was 15 when my father cut through the haze: ‘There’s no end to desires, son. Only life ends—spent chasing a “better” that keeps shifting. Basic needs morph, the perfect story drifts, and you never catch it.’ He was right. I’d been running ever since—until I stopped.

We were never rich. Dad didn’t earn much, and I’d watch him count coins before buying anything. I hated it. So I promised him, ‘One day, you won’t need to check your purse before picking something up.’ Reckless, yeah—I was young, dreaming big. He’d just smile, that quiet, knowing grin, and say, ‘Anyone can earn money, son. Earn your own respect. Be a kind man in your own eyes—I’ll be the first to pat your back.’ Tricky words. I’d shrug it off—‘He’s worn out, out of his mind,’ I thought, dodging the truth glinting in his tired eyes. Now, looking back, I smile the same way he did. Not at the promise, but at what he saw: the real win wasn’t cash—it was me.

☛ Better Lie

It’s funny sometimes. I used to sip tea to clear my head—simple, warm, enough. Now I’m on lattes, frothy and overpriced, but it’s still not cutting it. Why? I need ‘better.’ The truth’s wild: there’s always something better out there—espresso, cold brew, some artisanal drip. But here’s the kicker: ‘better’ doesn’t exist. Sounds nuts, right? A phantom you chase that never lands. And yet, that’s how it is—how we are.

Thanks to my father, I learned early—listening, thinking, storing isn’t enough. He wasn’t the most intellectual man I knew, but he made me see: you’ve got to analyze. So I did. From a young age, I picked things apart—expectations, dreams, the ‘better’ lie. Chasing them? It’s a rigged game. The human mind’s algorithm is wired to dangle ‘best’ in front of you, but ‘best’ isn’t real—it’s a trick. ‘Better’ only looks good because there’s worse below it. Dad didn’t preach it fancy; he lived it, counting coins with that grin. That’s why I stopped—analysis showed me the truth.

Living for the work—expecting just to finish the task, not some grand result—that’s better. It’s not about the prize; it’s about the doing.

Dad smiled at my reckless dreams. I smile now, his truth clear. ‘Better’ exhausts—‘enough’ frees. What’s your latte, your Rolex? Drop it. Life ends; desires don’t. Start here—your story’s yours.

Dad’s grin lingers—his truth reshaped me. ‘Better’ exhausts, ‘enough’ frees—that’s my story. But maybe I’m off—could be the chase fits some, and I’m just wired odd. So, analyze it. Peel back your ‘better’—your latte, your Rolex. Does it fill or just flex? Dad taught me: dissect your world, it pays. This is my first crack at a Vocal piece—rough edges and all—so if it clicks, drop a clap or tip. Big thanks to Grok, my AI sidekick from xAI, for smoothing the grammar and flow. I’m not here to be right—just to spark yours. Life ends, desires don’t. Start now—your story’s waiting, analysis lights it.