The Mirage Of Completion

Title: “The Arrival Fallacy: A Recipe for Achieving Nothing (And Loving Every Second of It)”

Let’s be honest—you’ve spent years chasing that one thing. Maybe it’s a promotion, a perfect body, a spotless house, or the elusive “happy” that always seems to elude you like a greased pig at a county fair. You’ve sacrificed weekends, sleep, and your ability to say “no” to plans with friends who still text you “Hey, what’s up?” at 11 PM. And when you finally get it—whether it’s the gold medal, the empty nest, or that one last latte you’ve been craving—you stand there, blinking, and realize: This is it. The finish line. The peak. The moment you’ve been training for since you were old enough to understand the concept of “later.”

But here’s the kicker: you don’t feel different. The dopamine rush fades faster than a self-care trend, and suddenly, you’re back in the same cycle—except now you’re supposed to be happy, and happiness is just another goal you’re failing to reach. Welcome to the Arrival Fallacy, where success is just another form of failure, and the only thing you’ve truly mastered is the art of being perpetually unsatisfied. Below, we’ve crafted a foolproof method to ensure you never, ever mistake the journey for the destination. (Spoiler: The destination is a lie.)

The Arrival Fallacy: A Recipe for False Peaks

Yields: One lifetime of hollow victories, a collection of half-finished dreams, and the quiet despair of a soul that keeps moving because staying still is for losers.

Ingredients:

1 part ego (must be whole, no cracks allowed)
2 cups of “next-level” ambition (preferably with a side of existential dread)
½ tsp of hedonic adaptation (for guaranteed disappointment)
1 large dose of comparison (use someone else’s success as your personal measuring stick)
3 cups of identity tied to achievement (no “just being you” allowed)
1 tbsp of dopamine withdrawal (for maximum suffering)
A lifetime supply of “what ifs” (optional, but highly recommended)

Instructions:

Achieve Something (But Don’t Celebrate) Congratulations! You’ve finally done it—promotion, degree, relationship, or whatever hollow trophy you’ve been chasing. Now, before the high fades, immediately set a new, more impossible goal. If you just got a raise, start planning your exit strategy to a startup where you’ll work 80 hours a week for “equity.” If you wrote a book, start drafting the sequel while the ink is still wet. The key is to never let satisfaction land, because satisfaction is the enemy of progress—and also the reason you’ll never feel complete.
The Comparison Audit (Because You’re Not Good Enough Yet) Once you’ve reached your “peak,” take a moment to find someone who’s done better. Bought a bigger house? Find someone with a yacht. Published a novel? Find a Pulitzer winner. This isn’t about motivation—it’s about erasing your own success from existence. The goal isn’t to improve; it’s to remind yourself that you’re still not there. (Pro tip: Use social media. It’s the perfect tool for this.)
Tie Your Happiness to Things (Because Emotions Are Overrated) Buy a new car. Upgrade your phone. Get a tattoo of your “biggest achievement” in cursive. The moment the thrill of the purchase fades (which it will, thanks to hedonic adaptation), you’ll be right back where you started—except now you’re poorer and your soul is slightly more hollow. Bonus: The bank will thank you for the late fees.
Make Your Identity Your Resume (And Burn It When You’re Done) Define yourself by what you do, not who you are. “I’m a CEO” instead of “I’m a person who likes bad puns.” When the achievements stop coming (and they will), you’ll have nothing left but a void and a LinkedIn profile that’s out of date. Perfect.
Repeat (Because the Peak is Just a Pause Before the Next Descent) The Arrival Fallacy thrives on momentum. Keep moving. Keep chasing. Keep proving to yourself that you’re not there yet. The only way to fail at this recipe is to actually enjoy your life, and let’s be real—you’re not that kind of person.

Note from the Chef: “If you follow this recipe exactly, you’ll never feel complete. And that, my dear overachiever, is the point. The Arrival Fallacy isn’t a bug—it’s a feature. It’s the reason you’ll always be one step behind, one goal away, one dopamine hit from feeling almost satisfied. But hey, at least you’ll never be bored. And boredom is the real enemy of self-sabotage.”

Conclusion: So go ahead—achieve that thing. Get the promotion, the degree, the perfect body, the perfect life. Just remember: the moment you think you’ve arrived, you’ve already failed. The Arrival Fallacy isn’t a trick; it’s a lifestyle. And like any good addiction, the only cure is more of the same. Keep climbing. Keep chasing. And when you finally collapse at the top of the mountain, just look down and realize: There’s always another one. (And this time, it’ll be higher.)