You’re One of 8 Billion (Main Character Syndrome)

A Quick Reality Check

Ever notice how you sometimes feel like a celebrity on a red carpet, even if you’re just grabbing a coffee? It’s like there’s an invisible spotlight following you around—cue the dramatic music. We’ve all been there. But here’s a twist: there are eight billion other humans on this planet, most likely busy starring in their own personal blockbusters, too.

Main Character Syndrome: The Sneaky Little Ego Trip

Let’s call it Main Character Syndrome. Picture someone convinced every minor inconvenience is a plot twist personally scripted for them. Miss your bus? You’re fuming as if the universe is testing your patience in some epic hero’s journey. Your favorite café runs out of oat milk? The absolute audacity, right?

We’ve all played this role: overblowing tiny drama like we’re the star of an award-winning movie. When you really think about it, though, it’s both hilarious and a little humbling. Because while you’re delivering your Oscar-worthy monologue, a billion other people are off stage, dealing with their own oat-milk shortages.

Tiny Specks in a Giant Universe

Now for the plot twist: zoom out. Way, way out. Look at the night sky—each dot of light could be a star, or maybe even a galaxy if you’re feeling extra philosophical. In that endless cosmic stretch, Earth itself is basically a dust particle swirling in the cosmic breeze. Suddenly, my missed bus doesn’t seem so epic, does it?

Why It Bothers Me

Feeling important is nice. But Main Character Syndrome can be a headache to watch. It’s like meeting a friend who won’t stop talking about their own storyline. And I mean, I’m all for self-love, but I also enjoy, you know, conversation. As in, sometimes it’s good to listen, empathize, or at least admit the show isn’t solely about you.

A Cast of Billions

Here’s a different angle: what if life is less about one starring role and more about an ensemble cast? We’re all extras and supporting actors in each other’s stories, and that’s kind of beautiful. Instead of hogging the spotlight, maybe the better move is to play well with others, share scenes, and appreciate that we’re all in this big cosmic improv together.

Final Thoughts: Embrace the Ensemble

So, next time you feel the urge to deliver a heartfelt monologue about your struggles, remember: everyone else might be on their own epic quest, too. It doesn’t mean your story isn’t important—just that it’s part of a much bigger, weirder, funnier script called human existence. Embracing that fact can be oddly freeing. After all, if we’re all just specks on a giant space rock, might as well make the most of the ensemble, right?