Living on remote control

I spent half my life on autopilot.

Studied where my parents wanted. Worked where they’d take me. Tried to start a family because it was time. And then I saw my life in a movie.

The film Click. About a remote that fast-forwards through boring moments. Whoosh – and you’re already further ahead. Convenient.

The remote learns your preferences and starts fast-forwarding on its own. Entire years – whoosh. Kids grew up, wife left, father died. The character walks, talks, works. The lights are on but nobody’s home.

In the movie he wakes up old, sick, alone. Nothing to remember – just one long fast-forward.

In real life you don’t notice the fast-forwarding. A job you hate, people you don’t love, traffic, busywork, endless to-dos – and it still feels like everything’s ahead of you. Whoosh. And then – oops, I never actually lived. Didn’t have the time.

From inside comes anxiety, irritation, envy. The mind helpfully supplies explanations: boss is an asshole, wife doesn’t understand, not enough money. And you believe it. Because it seems like you’re thinking, but you’re just reacting. And you don’t notice – because everyone around you is doing the same.

The remote also had a pause button. Press it – the world freezes, and you notice that you exist. Not the ping-pong of events, but you yourself. The one being fast-forwarded.

He was lucky – it was a dream. I was lucky – I woke up. Your remote is in your hands.