text: Imagine life as a TV program where, at any moment, you could press a button to change the channel when things were not going your way. No longer would you have to endure discomfort or displeasure. With a remote control, you could effortlessly switch to a different scene, a new plot, or even an entirely different life genre without leaving your seat. Are you facing a difficult day at work? Just flip to a scene where you are on a tropical vacation. Are you encountering a challenging relationship issue? Change to a narrative where harmony and understanding prevail. The remote control becomes a powerful tool, allowing you to navigate life's difficulties easily and comfortably. Every moment could be curated to your liking in this fantastical scenario, offering a seamless transition from one pleasant experience to the next. The stress and unpredictability of daily life would be replaced by a tailored sequence of events, each chosen to bring you joy, satisfaction, and peace. It would be a world where your desires and preferences shape reality, managed from the comfort of your favorite chair. But it is not. I am living a lie, ensnared by deceptions from every direction. The world around me feels like a carefully constructed facade, each layer adding to the suffocating weight of falsehoods. For the first time, I wish that the devastating truth I uncovered was just another lie. Unless, of course, the fact itself is a cruel fabrication designed to wound me even deeper. In this turmoil, I am in an endless argument with the universe. I have long since abandoned the belief in a higher power; the notion of God became meaningless to me years ago. It was around the time of my first or second attempt to end my life. Who is counting anyway? The exact number does not matter; what matters is that those moments stripped away any remaining faith I had. Now, I face an unbearable paradox: I must relinquish the things that bring me joy. Despite my immense love for what I do and the countless hours of effort I have poured into it, I cannot continue--not from my current position. The harsh reality is that the environment I find myself in is stifling my passion and potential. The only viable solution left is to leave it all behind. Giving up what makes me happy feels like a betrayal of my very essence. It's not just about abandoning a job or a hobby; it's about letting go of a piece of my soul. The thought of walking away from everything I have worked so hard for is daunting and disheartening. Yet, staying means suffocating under the weight of lies and an environment that will never allow me to thrive. I decided to stop doing stand-up because there was no place for me at the top. I am turning to writing, my true love. It's a difficult path, but there are fewer stumbling blocks than on a stand-up comedian's path. I am not saying I won't miss making people laugh, but I can't function with so much anger inside me. I have never been so angry. Not even when I discovered that my parents had abandoned me, not even when I lost my teeth when I lived as a homeless person. I never felt the anger that I feel now. The glass of tolerance has filled to the edge. Now, I am going to look for a job. It won't be something I'll love and enjoy, but it will take my mind off stand-up and the whole mess. At least I will be calm for a while. Maybe people will ask about me--and perhaps they will not. Not because I was not worth being remembered but because comedians were already ready to jump in my place. Let them. Nobody is irreplaceable. Today, it is me; tomorrow, it can be them. That is life. True, I got new teeth--but at what price did I pay for them? Sometimes, I wish I hadn't even gotten them because, thanks to them, people look at me differently; they behave as if I got a new personality with new teeth. I did not. I am still the old me, just in a better, more pleasing-to-the-eye version. So why doesn't anyone notice me? Why am I sidelined? Why am I an observer of other people's success and happiness? Is there any point in that? I am tired, my friends, of asking questions and looking for answers. Sometimes, it is best to let everything go. And that is what I am doing. I am letting go and hoping to find peace. One morning, I walked into the comedy club, and all eyes were on me. Whispers followed me to the dressing room, a sense of dread gnawing at my insides. I spotted Jerry, another comedian, leaning against the wall. "Haven't you heard?" he said, his voice a mix of pity and curiosity. "Everyone's saying you're quitting stand-up because you had a breakdown. They're saying you're too angry to keep going." My heart sank. The rumors had started, and I was the topic. I had not spoken to anyone about my decision. The truth was, I was stepping back because the environment was suffocating me, not because I had lost my mind. But a hint of vulnerability quickly spiraled into scandal in the cutthroat comedy world. That night, I walked up to the mic with a storm brewing. The audience watched, waiting for me to crack. Instead, I channeled every ounce of my anger into my performance, turning the rumors into punchlines. "People are saying I'm quitting because I'm too angry," I began, pacing the stage. "Well, maybe I am angry. Maybe I am angry at a world that thinks it knows me but doesn't try to understand. Maybe I'm angry because the truth is too heavy to carry alone." The room fell silent. The audience, used to laughing with me, was now listening intently. "But here's the thing," I continued, leaning into the mic. "I'm not quitting because I can't handle it. I am stepping away because I deserve better. We all do. And if that makes me crazy, then so be it." Walking off the stage, I felt a strange mix of exhaustion and relief. The rumors would continue, but I had taken control of the narrative. I was no longer just the topic of gossip; I was the author of my own story. These days, I feel like I am wandering through a maze, utterly lost and scared, like a bewildered child. Every path I choose seems to lead me astray, returning to the same desolate starting point. Sometimes, it feels like I'm not moving at all while the world shifts and changes around me, leaving me stranded, voiceless, and motionless. I am besieged by conflicting decisions, overwhelmed, as if I am attacked from all sides, bombarded by deafening screams, yet unable to discern the right course of action. I must confess that I have faced worse trials before, yet somehow, those trials seemed more bearable. Should I sever ties with the life that's altered my existence, granting me treasures while robbing me of dreams--albeit temporarily--or should I muster the strength to contend for acceptance in a society that fails to recognize my true worth? Or should I start a new? There are so many choices and so much weight on me, and I am in this - alone. The onset of the club's new season was meant to herald a fresh beginning, and I eagerly anticipated it, having spent the years proving my mettle to myself and others. Yet, reality delivered a cold, bitter blow. Not only did I fail to attain what I yearned for, but I also lost what little I had. "Be patient," they say. "Keep proving yourself, and things will change." But haven't I been doing exactly that for the past ten years? Must I continue to prove myself, biding my time for an elusive opportunity? How much longer must I endure this trial, and for whose validation? Anger, fury, and disappointment swirl within me, threatening to consume my very being. You cannot dangle the promise of my dreams before me only to snatch them away--it is cruel. I possess knowledge, talent, perseverance, and a deep love for my craft--aren't these qualities worth something in the end? I am exhausted, drained to the core. I feel like Don Quixote, mistaking windmills for lofty dreams. They drag me deeper into the abyss of despair and sorrow, and I succumb to their pull as if I lack the strength to resist and a reason to fight. Is it the solitude that weighs upon me? It never troubled me before. I was accustomed to solitude, or so I thought. But things have changed now. The stone in my chest has vanished, leaving behind a void. "I've lost that lovely feeling..."