Most of us are playing a game we didn’t consciously agree to.
We measure our lives with invisible metrics—status, success, attractiveness, productivity, likability, usefulness—as if those were universal truths. But where did they come from?
You didn’t invent your scoreboard.
It was handed to you.
By your family. Your school. Your culture.
By social media. Algorithms. Marketing slogans. Performance reviews. Childhood approval patterns.
By a million micro-messages, none of which asked for your consent.
And over time, that scoreboard became reality.
📊 The Quiet Architecture of Meaning
The Existential Scoreboard isn’t a spreadsheet you keep on your desktop.
It’s a structure of value built inside you.
It’s the part of you that asks:
- Am I doing enough?
- Am I behind?
- Do I matter?
- Will they still love me if I stop achieving?
And the answers come not from truth—but from metrics you never chose.
You may think you’re living your life.
But often, you’re performing for an invisible panel of judges who don’t even exist.
🤖 The Problem Isn’t You—It’s the Scoring System
You’ve been conditioned to measure your worth by output, speed, image, or influence.
And when you feel hollow, it’s easy to think:
“I must be failing.”
But what if you’re not?
What if the scoreboard is broken?
Or worse… what if it was never yours to begin with?
✳️ A Different Question
Instead of asking:
How do I win?
Try asking:
Who built this game?
Why does it reward what it rewards?
And what would I value if I could choose?
Because you can choose.
You can rewrite the scoreboard.
You can define a life that counts something deeper:
Presence.
Honesty.
Wonder.
Real connection.
Freedom from the script.
But first—you have to see the system for what it is.
📖 Want to See What That Looks Like?
I wrote a story about this.
It’s called The Existential Scoreboard, and it follows a high-functioning man who begins to sense something is off—until he stumbles upon the hidden system that’s been quietly scoring his entire life.
It’s not a self-help guide.
It’s not a takedown.
It’s a mirror.
And it might feel uncomfortably familiar.
👇 Step into the story: