The Long Game

On realising that we have fallen in love with the destination and not the journey

Mar 02, 2026

Let’s talk about the destination before I draw you the map: I’m playing the long game.

For the longest time ever, I perceived my life the same way people saw ships in the sea which were headed to the horizon. If you can see it, it’s safe; otherwise, it has fallen off the Earth. The philosophy was heavily flawed; I was aware, but sometimes ignorance is bliss. With each year, I climbed a higher rock, gaining more sight of the vast ocean in front of me. But each mistake needs to be learnt, whether silently behind closed doors or publicly in front of the small hometown you call your home.

So after I stopped screaming, “The Earth is flat,” and finally used the lens of growth and wisdom, I realised I had been playing the game by the wrong rules for 17 years. The liquor of truth sits bitterly on my tainted lips, knowing well that lack of knowledge made me draw my dagger into the right hearts, a little too callously.

But this newfound information only serves the current me and no other version. The me which has survived and fled battles it never thought of. The me which sought comfort in isolation when I turned myself to ashes with matches and gasoline, which seemed synonymous with love.

So the latest version of me, the one which slipped from fingers but sailed through the toughest storms, finally changed the route to the same destination. For so long I have not let my garden grow, as I plucked the flowers to win arguments which held no weight on their own. So I’ll water the barren soil and plant flowers I perceive will bring me joy.

You are a mere visitor, but stay for as long as you want. We can plant flower beds together, have picnics under the apple trees, and I’ll read you my favourite novel while you lie in my lap in the shade. We’ll dance to our favourite songs, and I could scribble poems in the shape of your name.

But the long game isn’t just for love; it is truly for everything.
To become the best version of oneself, the one where your eyes don’t run from your own reflection. The one where your skin doesn’t feel like a stranger. The one where you are so detached from the output that you can set yourself free from the shackles of expectations and give it your all. The one where you smile and laugh and make mistakes. The one where you love yourself more, knowing your scars shaped who you are.

So my advice? Play the long game.
Fumble the bag hard and try again. Raise the stakes; go all in and poetically fail. Play against the odds and win. Laugh and scream, find the hidden joy. Live in the moment and pay the cheque before it hits the table. Count your winning streaks and losses. Make plans that fall apart like a house of cards and be chalant. Flip the coin, roll the dice, spin the bottle and have a quiet night. Your life isn’t just the destination; it is every road you have gone down, every step you took, and every moment you lived.

So forget about the losses, and don’t stress about today; we’re playing the long game, honey. Every second counts, but don’t sweat it.