What Do I Want?

A journey into self-discovery as a young professional confronts the gap between ambition and fulfillment, uncovering the essence of true desire.

What Do I Want?

Daiki slumped in his office chair, staring at the spreadsheet glowing on his monitor. Numbers blurred into meaninglessness, rows and columns forming an endless labyrinth. Outside the glass windows of the 17th floor, Kyoto hummed with life, but it felt distant—an entire world removed from his tiny cubicle.

His phone buzzed on the desk. It was a group chat notification, filled with the familiar jokes and plans of his friends. Dinner, karaoke, or maybe just drinks at a bar. He glanced at the message but didn’t respond.

Instead, he leaned back and let out a quiet sigh. What am I even doing?

At 32, Daiki had achieved everything he thought he wanted. A stable job at a prestigious firm. A sleek apartment in the city. A salary that allowed him to splurge on designer watches and Michelin-starred meals. His parents were proud, his colleagues respected him.

But every day felt like a treadmill, running but going nowhere.

...----------------...

Routine

Daiki’s mornings were predictable to the second. Wake up at 6:30. Gym for an hour. Coffee on the way to work. Eight hours of meetings, emails, and reports. A 7 PM train ride home, where he’d eat dinner in front of the TV, scroll through Instagram, and fall asleep before midnight.

He wasn’t unhappy, but he wasn’t happy either. His life felt... neutral. Like background noise.

Occasionally, he’d hear from an old university friend, someone who had taken a different path—traveling, starting a business, pursuing a creative career. Their stories fascinated and unsettled him. They seemed alive in a way he wasn’t.

When Daiki tried to talk about this with his colleagues, they shrugged. “This is just how it is,” one said. “Life isn’t supposed to be exciting all the time.”

But was it supposed to feel this hollow?

...----------------...

The Question

The turning point came on a rainy Saturday. Daiki had planned to stay in, maybe order takeout and binge a new series. But a notification popped up on his phone: a reminder for an alumni networking event he’d signed up for weeks ago and forgotten about.

He almost ignored it, but something pulled him out the door.

The event was crowded and loud, held in a swanky hotel ballroom. Daiki hated small talk, but he forced himself to engage. That’s when he met Itsuki.

Itsuki wasn’t remarkable in appearance—late 30s, slightly disheveled, wearing a blazer that didn’t quite fit. But there was something in his energy, a quiet confidence that drew people in.

They talked over drinks, and Daiki learned that Itsuki had once been a corporate worker too. Then, five years ago, he’d quit to start a nonprofit teaching underprivileged kids how to code.

“It wasn’t easy,” Itsuki admitted. “I burned through my savings, and there were times I thought I’d made the biggest mistake of my life. But I wake up every morning knowing why I’m doing what I do. That makes all the difference.”

Daiki felt a pang of envy. Itsuki had found his "why."

On the train ride home, the question that had been simmering in Daiki’s mind finally surfaced fully: What do I want?

...----------------...

Searching

Daiki didn’t quit his job the next day. He didn’t make any dramatic changes, at least not outwardly. But something shifted internally.

He started reading books he’d normally dismiss—memoirs of entrepreneurs, essays on happiness, even poetry. He spent weekends walking through parks or sitting in cafés, journaling about his childhood dreams.

He realized he hadn’t asked himself what he wanted since he was 16, when he dreamed of being a filmmaker. Back then, his parents had called it a “hobby,” not a career. So he’d buried that dream and focused on practicality.

But practicality had led him here: a life that looked good from the outside but felt empty on the inside.

...----------------...

Small Steps

One evening, Daiki signed up for a filmmaking workshop. He told himself it was just for fun, a way to fill his evenings. But as he held the camera, piecing together shots and crafting a story, something inside him clicked.

He began spending every spare moment on creative projects. Short films. Scriptwriting. Editing tutorials on YouTube. He even started sharing his work online.

At first, he was terrified of judgment. Would people think he was foolish for pursuing something so impractical? But the response surprised him. His friends were supportive, and strangers commented on his videos, saying they resonated.

For the first time in years, Daiki felt a spark of excitement when he woke up in the morning.

...----------------...

The Leap

After a year of juggling his job and his passion, Daiki faced a choice. He could stay on the safe path, climbing the corporate ladder, or he could take a leap into the unknown.

He chose the latter.

Quitting wasn’t easy. His parents were worried, his colleagues shocked. But Daiki felt a strange sense of peace. He knew he was trading stability for uncertainty, but he also knew he couldn’t go back to the way things were.

...----------------...

A Life Rewritten

The first year was hard. Daiki worked freelance gigs to make ends meet, often doubting himself late at night. But he kept going, driven by the question that had changed everything: What do I want?

He realized the answer wasn’t a single destination. It was a process—a constant reevaluation of his values, his passions, his purpose.

Now, at 35, Daiki still doesn’t have all the answers. But his days are filled with creativity, with challenges that excite rather than drain him. He’s not rich, but he’s content.

And every morning, as he picks up his camera or sits down to edit, he asks himself again: What do I want today?

...What’s Not Working?...

A poignant exploration of life’s inefficiencies, as a mother juggles career, family, and personal identity, questioning what truly matters.

What’s Not Working?

The sound of the coffee grinder echoed through the small apartment, cutting through the quiet hum of the morning. Naoko leaned against the counter, staring blankly at the ceramic mug in her hand. It wasn’t the coffee she needed—it was clarity.

Another day, another routine. She glanced at the clock: 7:45 AM. Just enough time to sip her coffee, check her emails, and mentally prepare for the onslaught of meetings at her marketing job. On the surface, everything seemed fine. A decent paycheck, a comfortable apartment in Yokohama, and a career that looked impressive on paper.

But deep down, she felt it: a quiet, insistent voice that whispered, Something isn’t right.

...----------------...

The Uneasy Calm

Naoko’s days had a rhythm to them, but not the kind that brought joy. It was more like the ticking of a metronome, keeping her life in line but devoid of melody. Her mornings were rushed, her afternoons filled with endless tasks, and her evenings spent mindlessly scrolling through her phone, searching for... something.

Her friends admired her dedication to her work. “You’re so lucky to have a stable career,” they’d say over drinks. Naoko would nod and smile, but she knew she didn’t feel lucky. She felt... stuck.

She had moments of doubt, but she always brushed them aside. Everyone feels this way, she told herself. It’s normal.

But was it?

...----------------...

The Question

The breaking point came during a team meeting one Wednesday. Her manager, Satoshi, was presenting a new campaign strategy. As he spoke, Naoko felt a strange sense of detachment. She was there, nodding in agreement, taking notes, but her mind was elsewhere.

When the meeting ended, Satoshi pulled her aside. “Naoko, your work has been solid, but you seem... distant lately. Is everything okay?”

The question caught her off guard. She forced a smile. “I’m fine, just a bit tired.”

But the truth lingered long after she left his office. Am I fine?

That evening, sitting alone in her apartment, Naoko decided to confront the unease that had been building for months. She opened her journal, something she hadn’t touched in years, and wrote one simple question: What’s not working?

...----------------...

The List

The answers didn’t come immediately, but they came.

She wrote about her job, how it no longer excited her. The long hours, the lack of creativity, the constant pressure to deliver results that didn’t seem to matter in the grand scheme of things.

She wrote about her friendships, many of which felt shallow and transactional. It had been months since she’d had a meaningful conversation with anyone.

She wrote about her health, how she’d stopped exercising regularly, how her diet consisted mostly of takeout and convenience store snacks.

By the time she closed her journal, the page was filled with messy handwriting and tear-streaked ink. But for the first time in a long time, she felt something shift. Naming the problem didn’t solve it, but it made it real.

...----------------...

Small Changes

The next morning, Naoko woke up earlier than usual. She didn’t reach for her phone. Instead, she went for a walk, letting the crisp morning air clear her mind.

It was a small change, but it felt significant.

Over the next few weeks, Naoko began making other small adjustments. She started setting boundaries at work, saying no to tasks that weren’t her responsibility. She reached out to an old friend she hadn’t spoken to in years, and they spent an evening reminiscing over dinner. She signed up for a yoga class, even though she felt awkward and out of place at first.

None of these changes were drastic, but they added up.

...----------------...

The Bigger Picture

As the weeks turned into months, Naoko started to see her life differently. She realized that the problem wasn’t just her job or her routines—it was the way she had been living on autopilot, ignoring her own needs and desires.

One evening, she revisited her journal and wrote a new question: What do I want to change?

The answer wasn’t clear right away, but she didn’t rush it. She knew now that figuring out what wasn’t working was the first step, but the real work lay in building something better.

...----------------...

A New Path

Six months later, Naoko quit her job. It wasn’t an impulsive decision—she had spent weeks planning her next move. She didn’t know exactly what she wanted to do, but she knew what she didn’t want: a life that felt like a treadmill.

She started freelancing, taking on smaller projects that allowed her to explore her interests. She joined a local community group focused on sustainability, something she’d always been passionate about but never had time for.

Her days were still busy, but they were busy with things that mattered to her.

...----------------...

What’s Working?

Now, at 34, Naoko still has questions. She still faces challenges. But she no longer feels stuck.

She’s learned to check in with herself regularly, asking, What’s not working? and What can I change?

Her life isn’t perfect, but it’s hers.

And every morning, as she sips her coffee and plans her day, she feels a quiet sense of satisfaction. Because now, she’s not just surviving—she’s living.

...What’s My Purpose?...

A reflective tale of a man searching for meaning beyond his daily routine, uncovering how small actions can create lasting impact.

What’s My Purpose?

The train rattled beneath Kota’s feet as he stared out the window, watching Tokyo’s skyline blur into a watercolor of lights and shadows. The city stretched endlessly, vibrant and alive, but none of it seemed to touch him. His reflection in the glass stared back at him—tired eyes, a neatly pressed suit, and a faint, lingering question in the creases of his brow.

He turned away from the window and glanced at his phone. It was already past 9 PM. Another late night at the office, another project completed, another promotion on the horizon. Yet the satisfaction that should have come with success was nowhere to be found.

Kota adjusted his tie and sighed. What am I even doing?

...----------------...

The Machine

At 35, Kota had mastered the art of living by society’s rules. He had climbed the corporate ladder at one of Japan’s leading tech firms, bought a spacious apartment in Minato, and dined at restaurants that required reservations months in advance.

His parents were proud. His colleagues envied his career. His friends joked about his endless work ethic.

But when Kota came home each night, the silence of his apartment felt louder than any applause. He moved through his days like a machine, efficient and precise, but hollow.

There had been moments, fleeting and uninvited, where the question surfaced. During a rare quiet weekend. In the middle of a meeting. On long walks through the city.

What’s my purpose?

But Kota always buried it. There was no time for such indulgent thoughts. Life wasn’t about purpose—it was about progress. Or so he told himself.

...----------------...

The Catalyst

It was a rainy Thursday when everything began to unravel. Kota was presenting a quarterly report to the executive team, his slides immaculate, his delivery flawless. But halfway through his presentation, he froze.

The words on the screen blurred. His chest tightened. For a moment, he couldn’t breathe.

“Kota? Are you alright?” someone asked.

He nodded quickly, apologizing and resuming the presentation. But the moment haunted him for the rest of the day.

That night, alone in his apartment, Kota finally allowed himself to confront the feeling he’d been avoiding for years. He sat on his couch, the city lights spilling through his window, and whispered to the empty room: Why does this feel so meaningless?

...----------------...

The Search

Kota began reading. Books on philosophy, memoirs of people who had left everything behind to find themselves, essays on happiness and fulfillment. He watched documentaries about artists, activists, and explorers—people who seemed to live with a fire he couldn’t understand.

He started journaling, something he hadn’t done since he was a teenager. At first, the entries were short and scattered:

Why am I doing this job?

What do I actually enjoy?

Do I even know who I am anymore?

But over time, the words came more freely. He wrote about his childhood dreams of being an inventor, of creating something that could change lives. He wrote about the pressure he’d felt to choose a “safe” career, to make his parents proud. He wrote about the moments when he’d felt most alive—hiking in the mountains, building gadgets in his garage as a teenager, helping a junior colleague solve a problem.

Slowly, patterns began to emerge.

...----------------...

The Mirror

Kota decided to visit his hometown, a quiet coastal village he hadn’t returned to in years. He needed space to think, to reflect.

One evening, as he walked along the shoreline, he ran into Mr. Tanaka, his old high school teacher. They talked for hours, reminiscing about the past.

“You were always so curious,” Tanaka said, smiling. “Always asking questions, always building things. Do you still do that?”

Kota hesitated. “Not anymore. Life got... busy.”

Tanaka studied him. “You know, when you were young, you didn’t care about impressing anyone. You just wanted to create. Maybe that’s what you’re missing.”

That night, Kota stared at the waves and thought about Tanaka’s words. When did I stop creating?

...----------------...

Small Steps

Back in Tokyo, Kota began experimenting. He bought a 3D printer and started building small devices in his free time—nothing groundbreaking, just simple tools to solve everyday problems.

At first, it felt frivolous, like a distraction from his “real” work. But as the weeks went by, he noticed a shift. He started looking forward to his evenings, his hands busy with wires and circuits.

He also began mentoring younger colleagues, sharing his knowledge and helping them navigate their own careers. It was something he’d always enjoyed but had never prioritized.

The question What’s my purpose? didn’t feel as daunting anymore. It wasn’t about finding a single answer but about reconnecting with what made him feel alive.

...----------------...

The Leap

After a year of rediscovery, Kota made a decision that surprised everyone—including himself. He resigned from his corporate job.

It wasn’t a reckless move; he’d spent months planning his next steps. With his savings and newfound clarity, he launched a small startup focused on creating affordable, sustainable tech solutions for rural communities.

The work was challenging, the hours long, and the uncertainty constant. But for the first time in years, Kota felt a sense of purpose.

He wasn’t just working; he was contributing to something bigger than himself.

...----------------...

A Life Reimagined

Now, at 38, Kota’s life looks nothing like it did three years ago. His apartment is smaller, his income modest, but his days are filled with meaning.

He wakes up each morning not with dread but with curiosity. His work brings tangible change to people’s lives, and his evenings are spent creating, mentoring, and dreaming of new possibilities.

Kota doesn’t have all the answers, but he’s learned that purpose isn’t a destination—it’s a process.

And every day, as he watches his team build something new, as he walks through neighborhoods where his devices have made a difference, he feels it:

This is what I’m meant to do.