Are Your Thoughts Deceiving You?

We All Live in Stories We Create

“Most of the time, we don’t live in the real world but struggle in illusory prisons woven by our minds.”

A few days ago, I was taking my driving test (Part 3) and accidentally hit someone else’s car. In that split second, my brain immediately started playing a disaster movie: I’m done, I’ll have to pay; what about the instructor; I’ll definitely fail; how do I explain this at home… But reality was that, although it cost time and mental energy, the matter just passed. Life continued as usual—being on-call labor, doing vibe coding, reading—waves coming one after another. Looking at it from a longer timeline, these little episodes are almost insignificant.

The brain is a natural story-vending machine, capable of easily rendering the fact “I scraped a car” into a thrilling drama, and we often believe it’s real. Philip in “Of Human Bondage” is typical: his clubfoot was magnified in his mind into the monologue “I’m disabled, everyone will despise me.” This self-written story became his shackle, trapping him for half his life.

Look at your own life—how many anxieties stem from these never-ending internal dramas?

Redirecting the Brain’s Energy

When we stop overthinking, that restless mental energy doesn’t disappear—it needs an outlet. The old man in “Pantheon” said: in prison you need to keep your mind clear, but not too sharp, so he loved playing chess. During my senior year of high school, I accidentally discovered that playing games and reading novels helped me maintain just the right level of alertness. With the brain filled with information, there was no room for anxiety. This is actually channeling energy toward constructive outlets; otherwise, it defaults to running background programs like “worry about grades, fret about the future, guess what others think.” (Of course, time must be controlled—now I need to exercise properly.)

My recent experience developing an app validated this again. When I focused on “what features do I want to implement,” worries like “what if I can’t do it” couldn’t get a word in. Energy flows toward creation; anxiety naturally exits. The key is distinguishing between active thinking and the brain’s automated background processes.

Don’t Be Your Own Ideas’ Executioner

In childhood, wild ideas constantly popped up in my mind. Now, the moment a thought emerges, a voice immediately jumps out to refute it:

• No time.

• No money.

• Too hard.

• Not realistic.

• What will others think?

  We become our own inspiration executioners. But the truth is nobody cares—just do what you want to do. Though this way you’ll find there’s too much to handle, so you need to learn to distinguish priorities.

  A while back I wanted to make an app, and my first reaction was the process is too troublesome. Although I’d made a usable version with Claude, I still thought Apple Developer’s $99 was too expensive, plus I’d need a MacBook—even secondhand seemed incredible. In the end, I still made it. Though crude, it was real joy from creating something from nothing.

  Now I have two versions awaiting release. I anxiously asked Apple why the review takes so long; the answer was the EU needs to verify whether the developer is a trader. Things are tedious but gradually progressing.

  Philip was trapped because he always asked “What should I do?” but rarely “What do I want to do?” He studied painting in Paris and later realized his talent was mediocre, yet said: “I learned to see.”—he gained a new perspective. Many seemingly useless things (reading, walking, daydreaming) actually bring happiness, peace, and inspiration.

Don’t Die in Your “Plans”

We’re too easily trapped by “how to do it,” falling into the trap of over-preparation. Want to work out? First research complex plans. Want to read? First make a book list. Want to travel? First make a perfect itinerary. The result: planning becomes action’s stumbling block.

Developing the app taught me: often, just start and the path appears. Initially I didn’t know how to implement all features; I just held the thought “make a tool to help me record ideas.” Once the purpose was clear, what technology to use, how to design the interface—these answers emerged one by one.

Since thinking is unreliable, what should we trust? The answer is: trust the intuition that emerges when thinking quiets down.

There are few true “technical difficulties” nowadays—mostly just high implementation difficulty. The key is not to sit stuck in a chair, staring at the computer anxiously. If you’re stuck, go for a walk, bring a voice recorder or phone, record ideas that suddenly pop up. As long as you have enough interaction experience with AI, many ideas can be quickly realized. Often in a moment when all thoughts cease, a simple solution appears without warning—this is what books call “inner wisdom,” always there, just drowned out by noise.

Use “Then What?” to Burst the Bubble of Desire

Recently I learned a powerful question: “Then what?” This follow-up is like a needle, gently bursting the bubble of desire. It reminds me of the view in “Pantheon”: deliberate “ignorance” is sometimes self-protection. We don’t need to know everything or receive all information.

When eyes always look outward, it’s hard to hear your inner voice. We all want to “be ourselves,” but if we don’t even clearly know what we truly want, how can we be ourselves? I miss those free and easy days at school—having most of my space and time.

Right now you’re sitting by the roadside, watching cars (thoughts) drive by. You’re just an observer; you don’t need to jump on every car. The driving test experience was like an epiphany—I discovered that true peace mostly appears in small, everyday forms. For example, when troubled by a bug, I first pause, notice the voices in my head saying “don’t want to play anymore” or “it’s over,” then tell myself: “Oh, that’s just a thought. I still have git!”