"Do what you love and you'll never work a day in your life," I was told countless times growing up.

This is bullshit we've been feeding kids for decades.

We tell them that if they just find their passion, work will magically transform into endless joy, as if difficulty is just a symptom of being in the wrong job rather than an inevitable part of doing anything worthwhile. As if work were some unfortunate byproduct of insufficient enthusiasm rather than the very engine of human flourishing.

This lie has metastasized through a generation raised on the gospel of self-optimization and peace-protection.

Walk into any elementary school today and ask twenty kids what they want to be when they grow up. Fifteen will say "influencer" or "YouTuber," drawn not by any particular message they're burning to share with the world, but by the intoxicating mirage of work that doesn't look like work. They see someone chatting into a camera from their unmade bed, turning morning thoughts into millions of views, clicks into Lamborghinis. And, of course, they don't see the 3am editing sessions, the constant anxiety about algorithm changes, the soul-crushing grind of performing happiness for an audience that could abandon you tomorrow.