My Crisis of Originality

Sometimes I think up some billion dollar startup idea or a genius perspective on life. And I love knowing I have a unique and valuable perspective on the world. This inspiring idea could be the pivotal moment in my life and be the culmination of all my effort and experience.

And again and again I disappointedly discover my thought is not original. The startup has already existed for 4 years and is almost bankrupt. The genius perspective is actually just a poor man’s version of Chapter 3 of some book. As my happiness fades to sadness, I lose interest in the idea.

It reminds me about something I know to be true: I am just a product of my environment. My thoughts and perspective are just a combination and slight modification of the many thoughts that came before me. On a planet with billions of other people, someone more intelligent and articulate than I will inevitably stumble upon the same combination.

But for some reason, I have an unquenching desire to be special, unique, and original. I want to go where no man has gone before and come out the other side. I want to matter. I refuse to believe I’m just one of many small white indistinguishable perfectly cylindrical checker pieces in Jesus and Satan’s backgammon game.

I already know the truth does not become less worth learning if someone else knows it. I already know good beliefs do not become less valuable if other people share them. I already know discovering something myself creates a more valuable and deeper understanding.

But every single time I discover my original idea has been said a thousand different ways by a thousand different people, I feel disappointed and discouraged.