The Weight of Wanting Everything

Is it Blessing or Curse?

I have always wanted to be everything.

Not in a vague or dreamy way, but in a deep, desperate way, like my soul was born with too many doors, all wide open, all leading to different lives I could live;

Astronomer, Stare at the sky, find a galaxy, name a star after me, leave something behind for people to find through their telescopes.

Painter, Root in my art studio covered myself with paints, I want to express myself through colors and let emotions spill onto the canvas.

Psychologist, Dive into minds, understand people, help them make sense of the chaos.

Archaeologist, Uncover what history left unanswered! the lost cities, the vanished civilizations, the secrets buried beneath time.

Volleyball athlete, Feel the adrenaline of the game in every jump and smash.

English teacher, I want to make students motivated to study, to master what they learn, to understand why knowledge matters.

Sports journalist, Standing at the edge of history, feeling the roar, capturing it in words and meeting Messi:)

Historian, Answer questions no one else can, bring the past back to life.

Translator, I want to bring unknown books to my country, the hidden gems, not just what’s trending.

Writer, Spending days in a messy room of books, creating stories which my readers won’t predict, also slipping knowledge between the lines.

But I am one person. One body, one mind, one lifetime. And that is my curse (that what I believed)

Because how do you choose?

How do you look at all these possible lives, all these passions that tug at you, and say, this one, this is the one I will dedicate myself to? How do you silence the voices of all the other versions of yourself, the ones that you leave behind?

So, I try to do everything. I prepare, I study, I stretch myself across subjects, across skills, across ideas. I chase them all at once because I fear that if I stop, if I pick just one, I will lose all the others forever.

But the truth is, I am limited. By time. By energy. By the simple fact that no matter how much I want to, I cannot live a hundred lives at the same time.

And that realization is crushing.

Because no one talks about this part, the grief of choosing. The quiet mourning for all the things you could have been but won’t be, at least not in this moment.

Some call it a gift or blessing, this hunger for knowledge, this endless curiosity. But even a gift can feel like a weight when it grows too heavy. When you lie awake at night, staring at the ceiling, questioning if you're using your time wisely. If you're on the right path or should have taken another.

And then there was him. Let's call him Gatsby (it's gonna be story for the other day, when I'm ready)

Gatsby, know everything. Not in an arrogant way, but in the way that made you feel like you could ask him anything and he’d have an answer, not just an answer, but the answer. He carried knowledge like it was woven into his skin, like every subject in the world had left a mark on him. I swear, sometimes it felt like he had lived a hundred lifetimes before this one and the fact he believed it too.

He was the kind of person you could sit with for hours, talking about everything and nothing at once. And one day, I told him about this. About my fear of choosing, about the weight of wanting too much, about the feeling that I was running out of time before I had even begun.

And he listened. He always listened.

Then he said, "Nobody’s pushing you but you.”

That stopped me.

"You're the only one making yourself feel like you gotta do everything at once,"

"Nobody’s telling you you have to be an astronomer, a painter, a writer, a psychologist, an athlete—all at the same time. No one's behind you with a clock, counting down. That pressure? That's all you. And if it’s you, then maybe stop fighting it”

He leaned back, watching me

"Make peace with it, be friends with it."

I frowned. "With what?"

"That part of you, the one that wants to do it all. Stop fighting it. Just handle it. Make time for it. Paint today, write tomorrow. Do your stuff, then learn German. But chill. Ain’t no rush. Nobody’s pushing you but you.”

He smiled a little.

"You're still young. You got time, more than you think. So enjoy it. Every part of it. Stop turning it into a chore. This ain't a curse, it’s a blessing. The only thing that is important is how you handle it."

I didn’t say anything. I just let his words settle and adjust. And damn, I miss him and he was right.

I had spent so long chasing everything, trying to grab every version of myself before it was too late. But too late for what? Who said I have to be everything right now? Who said I have to win at life before I even understood what the game was?

Maybe life isn’t about choosing one path and mourning the rest.

Maybe it’s about seasons or chapters

Maybe today I am a teacher. Maybe tomorrow I am a writer. Maybe years from now, I will stand in a gallery, staring at a painting I created, or be in a foreign country, speaking a language I once struggled to learn. Maybe I will get to live all my dreams, just not all at once.

There is no rush and there is no curse.

Next read→ The cheat code to living a thousand lives