Burn the Vision Board: A Love Letter to the Daily Grind

I once wrote my goals on the back of a crumpled Denny’s receipt. It was 3 a.m., and I was full of pancakes and delusion. I scribbled things like “Write a bestseller,” “Get a six-pack,” and “Fix my relationship with God, Mom, and Money, in that order.” I folded the paper like a sacred text and stuck it in my wallet, like proximity to my ass would somehow bring me closer to success.

You already know how this ends.

Three months later, I found the list again while looking for a gas card. It had faded into a ghost. Just ink stains and empty promises. Like most goal-setting exercises, it ended in guilt and a half-eaten metaphor.

The Lie We Keep Telling Ourselves

We love goals because they make us feel like we’re in control. Like life is a machine, and we just need to program it correctly. Like if we map out the next five years, the Universe will get the memo and cooperate.

But here’s the truth: goals are romanticized bullshit.

They’re sugar-coated lies we tell ourselves to avoid the terrifying truth that nothing is guaranteed, not our health, not our money, not our sanity. Goals give us the illusion of progress. They whisper, You’re going somewhere even if you’re standing still.

I’ve set goals my whole life. Big ones. Beautiful ones. Sexy, spiritual, intellectual little bastards with ambition in their eyes. I never lacked vision. What I lacked—what I ran from—was discipline.

Discipline isn’t sexy. It’s not a vision board with golden scissors and Pinterest fonts. It’s writing when you don’t feel like it. It’s getting up at 5:30 when your bones beg you to stay. It’s showing up without applause.

Every. Damn. Day.

Goals Make You a Junkie

Let’s be real—goals are like drugs. They give you a high when you first dream them up. You see a thinner version of yourself, a richer one, a bestselling author with their name on a marquee. You get a dopamine hit just thinking about it. You feel productive just by imagining it.

But that high doesn’t last. Because the second you actually have to work, your brain goes, “Wait—where’s the applause?” And now you’re chasing validation instead of results. You’re addicted to the fantasy and allergic to the process.

I know this because I’ve lived it. I’ve been that guy, reading seven productivity books in one week, convincing myself I’m doing something, when in reality, I’m just dressing up procrastination in a smarter outfit.

Habits Are Ugly. That’s Why They Work.

You want real change? Forget goals. Build habits.

Not the sexy kind. Not the gym selfies or the vegan TikTok meal-prep montages. I’m talking about the ugly, boring, intimate kind. The kind that makes no sense to anyone else. The kind you do when no one’s watching.

Like writing two shitty paragraphs every morning before work.

Like putting your phone in another room so you can actually read.

Like calling your mother every Sunday, even when you’re tired of explaining your life.

These aren’t goals. They’re rituals.

They’re prayers in motion.

They’re how you become who you say you are.

You don’t need a dream. You need a damn system.

Let Go of “There”

Let me tell you something that might save you ten years of agony:

There is no “there.”

You won’t arrive. You won’t wake up one day with the perfect body, perfect bank account, perfect lover, perfect peace. Life doesn’t reward you with a trophy and a chorus of angels just because you hit your goal weight or published a book.

The reward is you.

Who you became in the process.

What you endured. What you gave up. What you learned to carry.

And most of all, what you learned to leave behind.

That’s the stuff no one claps for, but it’s the stuff that actually matters.

The Only Goal That Matters

If I could rewrite that list on the Denny’s receipt today, it would only have one line:

Become the kind of man who does what he says he’s going to do.

That’s it.

That’s the goal.

The system.

The habit.

The prayer.

The legacy.

Everything else is noise.

I don’t care if I write fifty books or just one that saves someone from giving up. I don’t care if I get rich or just pay the rent on time without selling my soul. What I care about is showing up for my craft, my people, myself.

And that doesn’t come from goals. It comes from becoming.

So Burn It

Burn the vision board.

Let the five-year plan catch fire.

Take your list of “shoulds” and send it to hell.

Instead, wake up tomorrow and do one small thing that scares you and builds you up.

Write the ugly sentence.

Make the honest call.

Stretch. Breathe. Show up.

Because maybe the point isn’t to win the race.

Maybe the point is to keep running toward the person you promised yourself you’d become.

And if you ever forget?

Just check your wallet.

There’s probably a receipt in there, stained with syrup and hope, waiting for you to write the truth this time.

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(By the way, this is a ‘free’ publication, but if you enjoyed it so much that you want to donate to the cause, I won’t complain.)