If there were a biography written about me, I would insist on creative control.
Not because I am famous.
But because I know how misleading summaries can be.
The title would not be dramatic. It would not promise greatness. It would not pretend I mastered life by chapter three.
It would simply say, “Still Loading.”
Because that is the most honest description of my progress.
Not failed. Not finished. Not frozen.
Just buffering.
The cover photo would show me looking confident, staring into the distance like someone who understands the future. In reality, I would be trying to remember if I turned off the stove.
Chapter One would be titled, “Big Dreams, Small Battery.”
This is the era where ambition is unlimited, but energy is selective. I want to build empires. I want to change systems. I want to wake up early and dominate the day.
Then the alarm rings.
The empire will have to wait.
Chapter Two would be, “Confidence: Out of Stock, Try Again Later.”
This is where I start a bold project with unstoppable motivation. I tell myself this is it. This is the turning point. This is the glow-up.
Two hours later, I am researching whether it is normal to change careers every three weeks.
Every biography needs struggle.
Mine would include a detailed section titled, “I Googled It First.”
Doctors, mechanics, philosophers. I trust them all.
But I trust the internet slightly more.
Why consult one expert when you can read seventeen conflicting opinions and panic in high definition?
Then there would be the chapter called “Replying in My Head.”
This is a powerful chapter.
In real conversations, I am polite. Measured. Calm.
In my head, I deliver award-winning speeches.
Perfect comebacks.
Philosophical mic drops.
Unfortunately, they arrive four hours late.
My biography would not skip the awkward phases.
There would be a chapter titled, “That Seemed Like a Good Idea at the Time.”
This chapter would cover haircuts, investments, midnight decisions, and motivational speeches given to myself at 1:17 AM.
There would be a graph in this chapter. It would show confidence rising dramatically at night and disappearing by morning.
Every good life story needs growth.
Mine would include “Learning the Hard Way, But With Style.”
This is where mistakes become teachers.
Not gentle teachers. Not kind teachers.
But effective.
I have learned that failure is not fatal. It is just loud. It makes noise. It announces itself. But then it passes.
Embarrassment feels permanent in the moment. Later, it becomes content.
The biography would include a full section called “Adulthood Was Not Explained Properly.”
As a child, I thought adults had clarity.
They walked confidently. They paid bills. They seemed sure.
Now I am here, paying bills with mild confusion and wondering who approved me for responsibility.
I would include a chapter called “Pretending to Understand Financial Terms.”
Interest rates. Investments. Retirement planning.
I nod seriously.
Inside, I am calculating how much money I spent on snacks last week.
There would be a powerful chapter titled, “The Era of Productivity Guilt.”
This is where I measure my worth against my to-do list.
If I complete everything, I feel powerful.
If I complete half, I feel negotiable.
If I complete nothing, I convince myself it was strategic rest.
The biography would also explore my relationship with time.
Chapter title: “I Have Time. I think.”
I plan long-term goals while forgetting short-term deadlines.
I schedule the future confidently and then panic gently when it arrives.
There would be a reflective chapter called “Comparing Myself to People Who Wake Up at 5 AM.”
These people are impressive.
They journal. They meditate. They stretch. They drink water that looks organized.
Meanwhile, I am negotiating with my alarm as it owes me money.
But the biography would not be cruel.
It would not mock without acknowledging progress.
There would be a chapter called “Actually Trying.”
Because beneath the humor, beneath the overthinking, beneath the dramatic internal monologues, there is effort.
Real effort.
I try again after setbacks.
I start projects even when confidence is not fully present.
I show up.
Sometimes tired. Sometimes unsure. But present.
That deserves a chapter.
Then comes “Minor Wins, Major Celebrations.”
Finished a task? Celebration.
Made a difficult phone call? Celebration.
Did not overreact? Celebration.
Growth is not always cinematic.
Sometimes it is quiet. Sometimes it is invisible.
But it counts.
There would be a chapter called “Emotional WiFi: Strong Signal, Weak Password.”
This chapter will explore feelings.
Overthinking small comments. Replaying conversations. Reading meaning into punctuation.
A period can feel aggressive. A delayed reply can feel personal.
I am working on this.
The biography would include “Things I Thought Would Matter Forever.”
Old worries. Old fears. Old social embarrassments.
Most of them faded.
At the time, they felt permanent.
Now they feel small.
Perspective is a powerful editor.
Then comes the chapter called “Becoming Slightly Wiser.”
Not fully wise.
Not guru-level enlightenment.
Just slightly wiser.
I no longer chase every opportunity. I no longer panic at every obstacle. I have learned that not everything requires a reaction.
Sometimes the strongest move is calm.
The final chapters would not conclude the story dramatically.
They would be titled, “To Be Continued.”
Because that is the honest ending.
I am not a finished product.
I am not a complete masterpiece.
I am a work in progress with decent WiFi and ambitious plans.
If there were a biography about me, it would not pretend I had everything figured out.
It would celebrate the trying.
It would laugh at the chaos.
It would respect the effort.
And it would close with a simple line.
Loading… please wait.
Because growth is still happening.
The next chapter is not written yet.
And honestly, that is the most exciting part.