Most people get this completely backwards.
They think the top state of life is either: A) Playing your own game, alone, screw everyone else. Or B) Playing the group game, fitting in, getting along.
Both are traps.
Here’s the thing I’ve learned, the hard way. You can’t win a game you didn’t design. If you’re playing by someone else’s rules— chasing their definition of status, their timeline for success, their checklist for a “good life”— you will always be exhausted. You will always be one step behind. Because the goalposts move. They were designed to move.
So you have to build your own game. Define your own winning condition. For me, it’s not about the biggest house or the most followers. It’s about freedom of time, depth of relationships, and the ability to create things that actually help people think. That’s my scoreboard.
But here’s the twist most people miss, and it’s the real secret.
The goal is not to play your game alone.
That’s the lonely, bitter, “I’m an island” path. It works for a while, but it gets cold. You end up with all the freedom in the world and no one to share it with.
The real top state is this: Playing your own game, but inviting other people to play with you.
Think about it. The best work, the best relationships, the best experiences— they happen when you are deeply, unapologetically yourself, pursuing your own weird, specific interests, and you find other people who either share that game, or whose game complements yours.
You’re not trying to be them. They’re not trying to be you. You’re just… playing alongside each other.
This changes everything.
- When you’re playing your game, you don’t get jealous of their wins. Their “level up” doesn’t mean you’re falling behind. You’re on different maps.
- When you’re playing with them, you get the synergy. You get the honest feedback. You get the shared celebration. You get the push when you want to quit.
Most people’s misery comes from one of two places.
First, they’re playing a game they hate, surrounded by people who love it. They’re the accountant who hates numbers but loves painting, hanging out with finance bros. Miserable.
Second, they’re playing a game they love, but they’re trying to play it alone. They’re the painter who isolates themselves, refusing to show their work, refusing to collaborate. Also miserable, just in a different flavor.
The solution is brutally simple, but not easy.
Step one: Get radically honest about what your game actually is. What do you find intrinsically rewarding? What would you do if no one was watching or paying you? What makes you lose track of time? That’s your game board.
Step two: Get good at it. Seriously good. You can’t invite people to a game that’s boring or broken. Build something worth playing.
Step three: Start putting out signals. Show your work. Talk about what fascinates you. Be weird. Be specific. The right people— the ones who want to play your game— will find you. They’re out there, bored with their own group games, looking for something real.
Don’t try to change their game. Don’t try to convince them yours is better. Just play it, openly, joyfully, obsessively.
And let them see the fun you’re having.
That’s the invitation.
That’s the top state.
Not isolation. Not conformity.
But deep, authentic connection, built on the foundation of a life you actually want to live.
Play your own game. But don’t play it alone.