The lights strobe around me. The music bounces off my ears, reverberates in my heart, and shakes my body. I watch bottle after bottle of champagne pour out of the back room. Each one accompanied by sparklers, signs, and whatever else is supposed to make me feel special in that moment. Confetti falls from the ceiling, and club-goers wonder what we could possibly be celebrating. It’s a scene of pure excess. Pure emotion, really.

I’m surrounded by friends, women I don’t know, and the unmistakable feelings of lust and excitement. It’s easy to get lost in the moment. Too easy. And on that thought, my hand raises to signal for another round or three. Or four. I can’t lie: it feels great every time. Or let me correct that. It feels great every time—in the moment. 

But something happens after the moment. 

I wake up the next day. 

Money wasted aside, something feels off. It doesn’t feel that great anymore. I feel stripped, skinned, and hung out to dry. Weak and naked. Totally vulnerable. Empty and unfulfilled.

Lying in bed, I’m wondering, Why I don’t feel like the giant I was eight hours earlier? How can an experience be so high but also so low?

What’s really going on?

You see, life is boring. It’s monotonous. It’s repetitive. It’s hard, painful, and exhausting. This is what makes those short-lived moments of ecstasy feel so euphoric. Things will happen to you in life that make you want to cry. Want to laugh. Want to sing. Want to punch the wall next to you. This is the same for all of us. Not one of us is exempt. There are so many things that are out of our control. But there is also something that is in our control.

We have the ability to choose what has meaning and what doesn’t.

The famed Swiss psychologist Carl Jung once wrote, “The least of things with a meaning is worth more in life than the greatest of things without it.” So yes, we should undoubtedly be stacking our lives with as many meaningful experiences and things as possible.

But how do we discern? I mean, with so many things and experiences to potentially ascribe meaning to in our life, how do we know which ones are actually worthwhile? Which ones will actually fulfill us?

Ah, therein lies an indication on why the opening story, time and time again, leaves me feeling unfulfilled. After all, I can choose to put meaning behind that experience, right? I mean, it feels fuckin’ great in the moment. It should mean something to me. I should feel fulfilled. But many times, I don’t. Why?

I’m not building toward something bigger.

The next day, I’m starting from square one. It’s like a hard reset. All jets are off. Momentum halted. I have to begin again. But not from the point I was at. From the bottom. This is a crappy feeling. After a while, I don’t care who you are or what you do, this feeling starts to take a toll on you, and you feel like something is missing. Mostly because there is. 

The most meaningful things in your life build toward something. 

Case in point: Many devote their entire lives to creating a family. That’s the most meaningful thing in the world to them. This is why aging parents sometimes really struggle as they watch the kids they once cared for turn into adults who don’t need them anymore. Now, these parents have not only been stripped of their meaning in life, but they’re also not building toward anything anymore. It’s sad but true. And by the way, I’m definitely not suggesting you shouldn’t build a family. You should, if you want to. This is just the power that “building toward something” has on you.

So you don’t have to build using the standard narrative—school, college, job, marriage, house, kids, retire, relax, die—but you can easily see why that narrative works so well. It’s a constant build. Whether you choose to live the standard narrative or not, you should build toward something; otherwise, you’ll be unfulfilled. I promise you. Maybe not today or tomorrow. But you will. Then you’ll be questioning why you feel empty. You might even lose hope. Do I need to tell you what happens when you lose hope? Probably not, but I will. Everything turns to shit. That’s bad. You don’t want that. Building is growing, and growing is hopeful. 

Here are some common things people build toward in life:

• Relationships—Sure, relationships feel like you’re having your heart ripped out. You’re naked, and you’re willing to do stupid shit, things you swear you’d never do. But why? Because you have an internal sense that you’re building toward something—new life, home, support, etc.

• Family—Okay, you might want to punch your kids in the back of the head because they annoy the shit out of you, but you never will. In fact, you’ll bleed for them. Why? Because you have an internal sense you’re building toward something—their future, great holidays, grandkids, etc.

• Career—You can climb the corporate ladder or grow a blossoming business. (Save it—we can debate what’s more important later.) Either way, why are you willing to keep at it, even during the tough times? Because you have an internal sense you’re building toward something—promotions, more money, recognition, etc.

• Creative Pursuit—You can choose to build your craft: painting, filmmaking, writing, music, whatever. And you’ll go through the tough times of obscurity, alone times, and early years of nobody paying any attention to you. Why? Because you have an internal sense you’re building toward something—fanbase, mastery, new career, etc.

Look, I can go on and on. But the reason you’re willing to wake up to do all those things day in and day out isn’t just that you’ve put meaning behind it. It’s more likely that you have an internal sense you’re building toward something bigger. 

And this is why my opening story will never be truly fulfilling. I’m not building toward anything on nights like that. They’re temporary. Here today, gone tomorrow. In fact, those moments of excess could even be damaging. It just elevates my expectations and leaves me chasing more and more each time. (I’ve been there. It sucks.)

But I’m not going to sit here and tell you I’ll never consume life in excess again. Because I will waste money, party a little bit, and have fun with friends. I am who I am. But those moments are best enjoyed in microdoses and with people you care about.

I’d rather spend the bulk of my time on Earth building things and building toward things—creative work, a readership, relationships (romantic and platonic) that make me feel alive, and maybe a family one day. Most importantly, make the trade-offs necessary to prioritize those things.

Now, here you are with the greatest decision of your life.

It’s not just what to ascribe meaning to. Undoubtedly, that choice is yours. But the more important question looms…

What are you choosing to build toward in your life?