He wanted to live life in such a way that if a photograph were taken at random it would be a cool photograph. Things should look right. Fun; there should be a lot of fun and no more sadness than absolutely necessary.

The trap of looking cool

There is a quiet exhaustion in trying to make every moment look good enough to share. We catch ourselves arranging the table before eating or filtering a sunset before really seeing it. This desire to live like a random cool photograph isn't just about vanity; it's about seeking control in a messy world. We want proof that we're doing it right, that the story of our lives looks cohesive from the outside. But treating life as a gallery of highlight reels turns ordinary days into staged performances where nothing feels quite real.

Yet there is a trap in aiming for zero unnecessary sadness. Grief, boredom, and awkwardness are not errors in the system; they are part of the texture that makes the good moments land. A life optimized only for fun often feels flat because it lacks contrast. The most genuine connections usually happen in the unphotogenic stretches, when things go wrong and everyone stops pretending. Maybe the goal isn't a cool photograph, but a life that feels warm even when the camera is put away.