Wanting Isn't Enough

The most dangerous lies aren't the ones others tell you.

They're the ones you tell yourself—and I've been telling myself the same ones for decades.

"I want to write more."

"I want to learn Arabic."

"I want to get in shape."

"I want to do my own thing."

I nod along to my own motivational soundtrack, but then...that extra shawarma happens. Or "I'll start tomorrow." Or I get lost in the maze of perpetual planning (which is just procrastination wearing a suit and tie).

The biggest culprit is late-night Netflix, which cascades into less sleep, low energy, and questionable food choices.

This isn't just my problem. It's the human condition—this bizarre gap between what we say we want and what we actually do about it.

Everyone claims they want to be better. Better relationships. More wealth. Six-pack abs instead of the one large family pack most of us are sporting.

But there's an uncomfortable truth here: most of us don't actually want to change.

We don't desire change. We just like the idea of change.

And there's a massive difference.

What Real Desire Looks Like

Take Michael Phelps, the most decorated Olympic athlete ever. Not just swimmer. Athlete. 28 medals (23 gold).

The guy woke up at 4:30 am daily for years, swam 80,000 meters a week, and trained 365 days a year. No birthdays off. No holidays. For over a decade.

That's desire.

Let's jump to the South Indian film industry. Fahadh Faasil, son of a famous Malayalam movie director, starred in his first movie—directed by his father—and it was an absolute trainwreck. Torn apart by critics like a hungry lion on rabbit. It was so bad that he fled to the US, spent seven years there, somehow rekindled his desire for acting, returned to prove his father right, and started creating banger after banger.

The dude is now regarded as one of the best actors in the industry.

This isn't wishing for change. This is desire bordering on obsession.

And if you're into culture, take a look at Michelangelo and the Sistine Chapel. Sixty feet high. The man created an entirely new scaffolding system just to reach the ceiling. Read that again. Damn.

The bro also had a lot of impostor syndrome going on. He was a sculptor, not a painter. He didn't even want this job. The Pope basically forced him into it. For four years, he painted with his neck craned upward, developing chronic pain that stayed with him for life. He dealt with mold growing on wet plaster. He faced technical problems no one had solved before.

Yet he created one of humanity's greatest masterpieces.

Or—last one— take Mohammed Ali Jinnah, the founder of Pakistan. The man failed repeatedly in politics for decades. After his early marriage ended tragically, he became even more obsessed with his mission. He worked 20-hour days while battling tuberculosis that would eventually kill him.

He didn't live to see his first anniversary as governor-general, but he reshaped an entire subcontinent.

That's a desire that rewrites maps.

These people didn't just desire. They were committed.

Where Most of Us Go Wrong

1. We confuse wishing with wanting

Wishing is what you do with birthday candles. Wanting—real wanting—hurts. It requires sacrifice.

My friend asked me recently, "How badly do you want to learn Arabic?" My answer: "Not enough to spend an extra hour on weekdays." At least I'm honest now.

2. We have backup plans (Plan B)

True transformation happens when failure isn't an option.

We often hear stories of immigrant families killing it when they moved with nothing. That's because they HAD to make it work. No family safety net, no backup career, no other option.

Meanwhile, we've got our comfortable job, savings, and a dozen "just in case" scenarios. Our "desire" never reaches that life-or-death intensity.

3. We mistake intention for strategy

"I intend to get fit" means nothing without:

• A specific plan ("30 minutes, 5 am, these exact exercises")

• Environment design (gym clothes ready the night before)

• Accountability (money on the line)

• Measurement (tracking progress weekly)

Change follows a formula: Desire + Strategy + Execution > Comfortable Habits

Let's break this down:

Desire isn't just wanting—it's the burning need that keeps you going when everything else says stop. It's Michael Phelps in the pool at 4:30am when no one's watching. It's Fahadh Faasil returning to acting after public humiliation. It's the immigrant who sells everything to move across the world. Without this level of desire, nothing else matters.

Strategy is the bridge between wanting and doing. It's not just knowing what to do but also planning for the obstacles. It's putting your phone in another room before bed, deleting delivery apps when you're trying to cook more, and scheduling workouts like non-negotiable meetings with yourself. Bad strategy is why most New Year's resolutions die by February.

Execution is where most of us fail. It's the daily, unglamorous work when no one's applauding. It's showing up when you don't feel like it. It's what separates the people with ideas from the people with results. And we all know the truth: consistent execution, even at 70%, beats perfect execution once in a while.

All of this needs to outweigh your Comfortable Habits—the neural pathways and routines your brain has optimized for minimal effort. The Netflix autoplay. The takeout apps. The snooze button. These aren't just preferences; they're the default programming your brain will fight to protect.

Change isn't just about wanting something different. It's about wanting it enough to dismantle your current life and rebuild.

The Honest Question

The truth is, most of us are just too comfortable to change.

And that's actually fine! Just stop lying to yourself that you "really want it."

If you did, you'd be doing it. And you wouldn't have read this far 🥹

So here's the only question that matters: What do you actually want—so badly—that you'll make those uncomfortable, consistent sacrifices?

Because that's the only kind of wanting that counts.

Everything else is just comfortable lies we tell ourselves—while scrolling through the stories of people who replaced wanting with doing.

So what are you going to do tomorrow that proves you actually want what you say you want?

Because tomorrow always reveals what today's words really mean.