Peace of mind. Fulfillment. That quiet sense of “I’m okay now.”

It’s what we all chase—sometimes knowingly, sometimes not.

We look for it in people.

In job titles.

In grades, GPAs, bank balances, that dream house, the perfect car.

And while these are valid goals, often full of passion and ambition, they mask something deeper. They’re not just about the things themselves—they’re about what we think those things will give us.

We grind hard, day after day, for achievements we believe will finally bring happiness. And when we do achieve them?

It feels great…

But only for a while.

Because the truth is, the fulfillment these things bring is often fleeting.

The mental pressure, the sleepless nights, the overthinking—are they worth the short-lived high?

Now don’t get me wrong—this isn’t a call to give up on your dreams.

Not at all.

But perhaps, reading this will make you realize the true meaning of these goals, make you deeply think about them and help understand yourself a little better. 

What are you actually chasing?

What need are you trying to meet beneath the surface?

The little unhealthy snack at the end of a tiring day may fulfil the need of a warm hug, or perhaps a day off too? 

Curling up with a book or grinding on video games might be making up for the missed out social life? 

Maybe that one amount of money you have to reach (millions or perhaps billions), may be a way of trying to be finally free or to prove to the ones doubting you that you’re actually worth something, or even your own self.

Sometimes we see these hidden truths clearly.

Other times, they sit quietly inside us for years, waiting to be noticed.

So the next time you find yourself anxious, tired, or stretched thin chasing something—pause.

Ask yourself:

What am I really chasing here?

A little clarity can go a long way.

It might give you the motivation to push through.

Or it might show you that this goal was never truly yours to begin with.

And all of this matters.

Because time is limited.

So is your energy.

Wasting it on things that don’t fulfill you—or neglecting what truly just wastes your precious time and effort and can leave you with deep regret.

This reflection, this stillness, this questioning?

It’s a form of meditation.

Not the kind you do cross-legged on a mat—but the kind you journal in quiet moments, when the noise fades, and you face yourself honestly.

A smarter meditation.

A deeper kind of clarity.

And maybe—just maybe—the beginning of true fulfillment.