You Don’t Want Success. You Want the Fantasy of It.

You Love the Applause. But Not the Silence.

He kept wanting the applause.
But he couldn’t stomach the silence.

Not the empty rooms.
Not the failed attempts.
Not the hours where nothing looked impressive.

Because applause is instant.
Silence is brutal.
And silence is where the work actually happens.

I know that feeling.
When I picked up the guitar, I didn’t crave the sore fingers or clumsy chords.
I craved the bonfire sing-alongs, the beach nights, the magnetic image of looking effortless.

But here’s the truth:
I didn’t want the practice.
I wanted the performance.

We chase the image of success, not the grind that builds it.
The fantasy of being admired—without the silence that tests who we really are.

The Courage to Let Go

For a while, I tried to force it. I told myself that suffering through practice was just the price you pay. That once I could play a few songs, it would all be worth it.

But it wasn’t. Every session felt like dread. My teacher saw progress. I only saw the distance between me and who I imagined I’d be. Every wrong chord made me hate the sound of my own effort.

That’s when I learned: clinging to the fantasy version of yourself is how you end up stuck in careers you resent, relationships that suffocate, goals you secretly hate.

Letting go feels brutal. It feels like failure.
But the real failure is forcing yourself to grind at something you secretly despise—just because you like how it looks on the outside.

True courage isn’t pushing through. It’s admitting you don’t love it.

The Test

Maybe you’re in that place right now—clinging to something for the image, not the love of it.

Here’s the question that freed me:

If no one ever saw you do it, would you still want to?

If the answer is no, you’re in love with the fantasy, not the reality.
That was my truth with guitar. I didn’t love the solitude, the sound, the grind. I loved the idea of being the guy strumming under the stars. The fantasy me was cool. The real me sounded like dial-up internet.

So I quit.
And quitting gave me something better: space.

Be honest—where do you get stuck?
A) Starting
B) Sticking
C) Admitting I hate it
D) Quitting without guilt

Final Thought

When I finally gave the guitar away, I felt sadness at letting go of a fantasy version of myself—and relief at finally telling the truth.

And underneath both was freedom.

Because once you stop clinging to identities built for admiration, you make space for the ones built for truth.

For me, that wasn’t strumming under the stars. It was writing. Not because people applauded it, but because I loved the process—the quiet, the work, even the silence.

So maybe the better question isn’t “What’s your guitar?”
It’s this: What would you still choose if there were no applause at all?

Because silence doesn’t just test your skills. It tests your truth.
Applause fades fast. Silence never lies.

See you next week,
Linford

🔗 Stop chasing the image. Start building the discipline. [RESET Toolkit]
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