I never knew what I wanted to be growing up. Sure, the obvious ones—firefighter, police officer—but nothing I was truly passionate about.
For some reason, I was shamed for that.
Like not having a five year plan at thirteen meant something was wrong with me.
What I did know, even then, was that I wanted something more. Not more stuff. More life.
The problem was never the jobs I saw the people around me doing. My dad draws for a living—he works on one of the most iconic shows in television history.
By every measure, that's a dream.
But even a dream job can be a cage if you have to show up or the bills don't get paid.
Two months off and everything falls apart. That's not freedom. That's a beautiful trap.
And the trap isn't just for people in jobs they hate. Doctors. Lawyers. People who spent a decade in school, sacrificed their twenties, and came out the other side monetarily rich and completely time poor.
Enslaved by the career they worked so hard to build.
Some people call that a blessing. But if you're reading this, I think we both know it feels more like a curse.
Think about what that actually looks like.
- Too busy to have dinner with your kids.
- Too mentally preoccupied to call your parents.
- Working all week for a weekend that disappears before you catch your breath.
- So occupied with surviving the system that you can't even step outside and appreciate the sun.
What's the point of having your health if you can't live in it?
Society doesn't hide this from you on purpose. There's genuine glory in building a career, in working hard, in providing.
Nobody's lying to you.
But what they don't tell you is that the life you actually want—the freedom, the time, the ability to just be—that's not on the table until you're sixty five.
Maybe.
If your body holds up. If your savings survive. If the plan works out.
That's the cage. It's not made of iron.
It's made of good intentions and delayed gratification and the quiet acceptance that this is just how life works.
But it doesn't have to be.
Now before you think this is another one of those newsletters—wake up at five AM, cold plunge, sauna, chicken and rice, run a 5K twice a week—let me stop you right there.
That's not what I'm saying. None of that means anything on its own. You don't need a perfect morning routine to escape the cage. You don't need to grind yourself into the ground.
Here's what nobody tells you: most people aren't even competing.
The bar is lower than the gurus want you to believe, because if they told you the truth—that escaping is actually achievable with consistency and a little bit of intelligence—they'd lose their audience.
The struggle has to feel impossible or they have nothing to sell you.
The truth is simpler and harder at the same time. You just have to show up. Consistently. Intelligently. And you have to actually care.
The most valuable thing I ever did building something of my own wasn't waking up early or optimizing my schedule.
It was treating every single person I spoke to like they were the only person in the world in that moment.
Every conversation, every response, every first impression—I was present. Fully. Not thinking about the next thing, not running a script. Just there.
That sounds soft. It sounds like basic decency, not a business strategy.
And that's exactly why it works. Because almost nobody does it anymore.
The cage is real. But it's not locked.
You don't need to be exceptional. You don't need to be perfect. You need to be consistent, a little bit smart, and willing to do the unglamorous thing that everyone else decided wasn't worth their time.
That's the escape. It's closer than you think.