The Art of Being Delusional

Claire,

Once upon a time, you told me: “Being delulu is the only solulu.”

And if we go deeper, it becomes clear that you didn’t mean it as blindly insisting on the uncertain just because we want it. You meant something else. And even if you didn’t, today I choose to see it from a completely different perspective.

Because there is something powerful hidden in that sentence. Something that most people dismiss too quickly.

If we want to make it, no matter where we are in life, we must make every second worth something. Worth the effort. Worth the sweat. Worth the tears that fall when no one is watching. The art of being free, and responsible for our decisions, lies in the meaning we give to life and to its smallest moments. Not the big wins. Not the moments people applaud. But the quiet ones. The ones where no one is there to validate us.

We are here for a reason. And the only certainty we have is that one day, we will die. Until then, what sense does it make to settle for an ordinary life? To lose parts of ourselves to the wrong people, to keep making poor decisions, and to spend our time chasing trains we already missed?

I believe in more.

Not in a naive way. Not in a blind, unrealistic optimism. But in a grounded belief that we are capable of building something greater if we decide to commit to it fully.

What if we could reset our minds at any given moment in life? Truly reset. Not just say it, but act like it. As if yesterday didn’t define us. As if failure was nothing more than feedback. As if fear wasn’t a stop sign, but a signal pointing exactly to where we should go.

What if we cared about our well-being so deeply that even the smallest inconvenience would trigger a response strong enough to remove it from our lives? The wrong habits. The wrong environments. The wrong conversations that slowly drain us.

A mindset where limits don’t exist once we commit to the work.

Because the truth is, limits only feel real when we are standing still. The moment we start moving, they begin to blur.

The hard days we face head-on. The lonely moments we learn to sit with instead of escaping. The discipline we build when everything feels heavy. That is where change actually happens. Not in motivation. Not in inspiration. But in repetition.

Maybe delusion is the solution.

Because to believe you can become something greater than what your current reality shows… requires a level of “delusion.” A refusal to accept what is as final.

It has been that way for me.

I genuinely fear being average. Not because being average is wrong, but because I know I would be betraying something inside me. I fear not putting myself in a position today that allows me to wake up in a better one tomorrow. That quiet regret. That feeling of knowing I could have done more, but didn’t.

That’s why I work.

Focused. Even when it’s boring. Even when it feels repetitive. Even when progress is invisible. Committed to the goals I set for myself. Doing what I love, in the way life allows me to, and in the way that makes me feel most alive.

And there’s something people don’t talk about enough. The gap between where you are and where you want to be… is mostly silent. There are no celebrations there. No applause. Just you, your thoughts, and the work.

I don’t believe I will fail.

Not because failure isn’t possible. But because I don’t accept stopping as an option. There is no version of my future where I don’t win, because winning, to me, is continuing until it happens.

If we were all given the gift of life, then choosing not to live it fully, not to chase what sets us on fire, is what truly takes its meaning away.

Comfort is seductive. It makes you feel safe. But over time, it slowly disconnects you from who you could become.

If you set a goal in your mind, and you decide to work towards it every single day, if you live aligned with your words and your actions, how can you still go to sleep doubting that you’re getting closer?

Doubt doesn’t come from effort. It comes from inconsistency.

That’s the solulu. That’s the key.

Looking in the mirror and saying: you deserve more. And meaning it. Not in an arrogant way. But in a responsible one. Because if you deserve more, you also owe more. More discipline. More focus. More accountability.

Embracing what you have. Accepting what you don’t. And starting anyway.

The shift in routine. The small steps that seem insignificant, but over time, change everything. The days you don’t feel like showing up, but you do it anyway. That’s where identity is built.

Not in what you say. But in what you repeat.

It’s about believing in yourself. Not because it sounds good. But because not believing costs too much.

For your own sake.

For your future.