The thing was cold, that little slippery moment called “Now”, felt like a snowball in the neck every waking moment. The day didn’t glide; it lurched forward in small jolts — messages, tasks, obligations — until evening arrived without anyone remembering how it got there. Somewhere between the first coffee and the last glow of a screen, the storybook idea of happily ever after had been replaced by something less dramatic but more honest: you get today, and you have to do something with it.
Yet beneath all the noise, the world still ran on simple, concrete things: the kettle heating, the floorboard giving a little under your weight, lungs pulling in cold air. No symbolism, just facts. Even so, there was a quiet reminder in them: you are here, you are not done yet. That alone was enough to keep moving.
Days passed less like chapters and more like loops — mornings, routines, small decisions that didn’t look important on their own. Habit stitched those loops together. That could feel dull, but it also meant something straightforward: the way life turns out is heavily influenced by what you repeatedly choose, not by what you occasionally feel. Excellence, if it exists at all, is closer to a practiced stance than to a single heroic scene.
From a libertarian angle, none of that is scripted in advance. At each point, you could have done otherwise; that’s what makes responsibility real instead of theatrical. A monotheistic, all‑powerful God sets the context and meaning of existence, but does not force your hand at every fork. The plan, if there is one, includes free moves, not just fixed outcomes.
An internal locus of control fits here: not the illusion that you command everything, just the refusal to live as if you are only being pushed. The market, the news, other people — they all matter, but they do not fully define the pattern. The pattern forms where your repeated, unforced choices stack up over time.
Living “like a kid” then is not about naivety or mysticism. It is about staying able to notice plain things, to ask obvious questions, to change direction without being paralyzed by how serious everything seems. The stakes are adult; the posture can still be simple: pay attention, choose, repeat. If there is any “ever after” worth talking about, it is built that way — one clear, accountable “Now” at a time.