I’ve spent the last six months in an almost absurdly privileged situation. I could do whatever the fuck I wanted with my time—no job, financial security, travel, complete freedom to wake up and go to bed whenever I pleased, to work out when I wanted, to see friends on a whim. Six months of total liberty.
Fifteen-year‑old me would have called this the dream life: full freedom to do—or not do—anything. And at first, it felt incredible. But over time I grew comfortable.
When I was around twelve, I got my first computer. Within a year of diving into things I’d never encountered before, I transformed into the highest version of myself at that age. I woke up at 4:30 AM before school every morning to build things and learn—apps, websites, 3D design, video editing, software, anything I could get my hands on. From that obsession sprang my first freelance gig at fifteen: building websites for local businesses. I was obsessed with Casey Neistat and convinced that one day I’d live in New York City in my own creative studio, making things every single day. Ten years later, I’m basically there: I live in Berlin, I have a creative studio, I create every day, and I control my own schedule. On paper, I should feel proud and accomplished.
But the truth beneath the surface is different. By reaching this state, I’ve become comfortable. Without the pain that once drove me—like in school, when I found every subject boring and a waste of time—I slowly let my self‑discipline slip and lost my skill for self‑leadership. When no one tells you what to do and the only person you’re accountable to is yourself, you start justifying why it’s fine to stay comfortable. Life is now—why do anything uncomfortable? I feel safer and happier simply doing what I feel like doing.
Those are the stories I told myself. But after reflecting, I believe comfort is a curse. It’s as widespread and insidious as doomscrolling on Instagram or TikTok.
To me, comfort equates to an agreement to be mediocre—average. The moment you’re comfortable, you stop tapping into your highest potential. Good is the enemy of great. And since everything in the Western world is just one click away, we’ve all unconsciously agreed to be average. Why change when you have food on the table, decent friends, and endless dopamine hits? That’s exactly the problem.
What makes this so hard to see is how widespread it is. We’re wired to imitate and compare—happiness, money, success are all relative. If everyone around you is comfortable and average, you’ve allowed a powerful force into your life that will keep you exactly where you are. Gradually, your ambition, your dreams and hopes fade away, and you’re blinded by the curse of comfort.
You can’t fix this with incremental improvements. The human mind is wired differently—at least mine is. Instead, we need radical change. Bold action. One big decision that generates hundreds of smaller decisions for you: moving to a new city alone, quitting your job to spend a year in a Zen monastery. Because the curse of comfort creeps in biological ways, we need something drastic to break free. Change isn’t judged by going to the gym three times one week and then not again for three months; it’s measured by sustainable, long-term shifts that unlock a higher state of yourself.
This little rant isn’t meant to judge. If your ambition is to be comfortable and average, that’s perfectly fine—so long as it’s a conscious choice. But I’ve found most people are hungry. They have desires, wants, and dreams—but they fail to act because they’re too comfortable. When there’s nothing to lose and food is guaranteed, there’s no strong reason to push yourself. In the Western world we’ve created, everything works against action. I’m still figuring out how to navigate this—I don’t have all the answers yet—but I do know that by becoming aware of the distracted mediocrity around us, we give ourselves the chance to choose something different instead of accepting the status quo.