If I ever lose to the world
..vicarious vortex of humanity
Warning: This article could change your mindset—forever! Reader discretion is advised.
It is often a fundamental belief we were made to adopt as kids that anything is possible and we can achieve whatever we want if only we’re willing to put in the work. From the outset, we were told studying hard and getting good grades will set us up for a lifetime of success.
I’m not saying these things aren’t true, nor am I saying they are. But with all due respect to reality, let’s take a moment away from this hustle culture illusion that everything will fall into place just because we worked hard for it.
If reality hasn’t hit you yet, it’s great to think that as long as you dedicate yourself, you’ll get whatever you want. Yes, you can get what you want—but not always exactly the way you wanted it.
Before you label me a pessimist, walk through these words with me and sincerely reflect on your life—has there ever been something you wanted so badly and worked hard for, but didn’t get?
So what becomes of all those years of sacrifice and dedication—the sleepless nights, the early mornings, the quiet tears shed behind the scenes, and all the effort you poured into chasing that dream? Wasted?
It was the week of her semester exams when we found ourselves on a call. After the usual “Hi, how have you been?” conversation, behind her cheerful voice was a slightly trembling tone—subtle, yet enough for me to sense the weight of what she was carrying.
What’s wrong?
“I’m scared,” she said.
Scared of falling short, of not making the grade.
I asked gently, “Have you studied?”
“Yes,” she replied.
“And have you prayed about the exam?”
“I have.”
Then what are you scared of?
Maybe it wasn’t so simple for her to see in that moment, but I couldn’t help asking: If you’ve studied with intention, if you’ve prayed with faith—what more could you possibly do?
The truth is, fear thrives in the absence of preparation. But when you’ve done all that is required, when you’ve given your energy, your focus, and your effort, fear no longer has a rightful place. Once you’ve sown the right seeds, you owe yourself the courage to believe in the harvest.
Well, what if the unthinkable happens and my harvest doesn’t turn out full?
If things don’t ever work out the way I envisioned they would. if by any chance, life happens and my dreams fade away, I want to be able to hold my head high and say I gave it everything I had.
This thought is what I carry with me when the journey gets extremely overwhelming and my efforts seem to yield no result. I kept hanging on, just for the sake of knowing I did all I could, and that it wasn’t because of me that things didn’t work out—before seeking another path to the same destination.
There were times I cried after trying every possible means, only to be overlooked and denied the very thing I wanted so badly. But perspective soon evolved, and eventually, I had to accept the things beyond my control.
I was handed a glass of water—that was all I had—along with a simple instruction: pour it into the five-litre bottle.
So I did.
Without question. Without hesitation.
I tilted the glass carefully, reverently, and let every drop fall.
The water hit the bottom with a faint splash,
barely covering the base as if I had done nothing at all.
I stared into the emptiness above it, and that’s when the doubt crept in.
The ache.
The weight in my chest.
Why didn’t it fill the bottle?
What did I do wrong?
I stood there for hours.
Days.
Blaming myself for the emptiness.
Telling myself I should’ve brought more.
Been more.
Done more.
Tearing myself apart for not filling what could never be filled with what I had.
I cried. I broke.
Tried to wring out the glass, shake out one more drop —even tears.
Maybe they’d count too.
But nothing came because the glass was empty.
I had already poured everything.
I had already given all I had.
Then slowly and painfully, I began to understand.
The failure wasn’t in the pouring.
It wasn’t in the glass, and it wasn’t in me.
The failure was in the expectation.
In the lie that what I had, what I gave
wasn’t enough
because it didn’t look full.
But that bottle?
It held my effort.
My heart. My soul.
And I gave it all.
The victory isn’t in filling the bottle.
The victory is that I poured —
and didn’t hold back.
After all, this is what we eventually settle for after chasing what we believe would make us happy, only for it to fall through. Then reality hits, perspectives shift, and we settle where we are—where we ended up, and start crafting words like this article to console ourselves, finding comfort in clichés like, “Maybe it’s about who you become in the process.”
Next, we seek that feeling of fulfillment in money, in our spouse, in dishing out advice to the younger generation as though we didn’t get the chance to make it happen for ourselves—trying to give meaning to our otherwise mundane existence.
We raise children, hoping they’ll achieve what we couldn’t. “Since I couldn’t, maybe my children will.” And so, the cycle continues. I call this—The Vicarious Vortex of Humanity. At the very least, we never stop trying to make meaning of our lives.
If you ever lose to the world, don’t lose to yourself.
Do everything within your power. That way, if you ever come out on the other side, you won’t have yourself to blame.
Peace.