History is just a fancy way of saying, “someone wrote things down in an interesting way.” A king loses a battle? “A tragic fall from power.” A scientist makes a mistake? “A turning point in human discovery.” Some guy trips on a rock? “And thus, the course of civilization was forever altered.“

Meanwhile, in your own life, you might just be a person who once spilled coffee on yourself at work. But what if, instead of admitting to clumsiness, you called it “a moment of deep realization about the fragility of mankind’s creations”? Suddenly, you sound like a philosopher rather than someone who can’t hold a cup properly.

You say nothing dramatic ever happened in your life? Well, that depends. Did history actually happen, or was it just written really, really well? What if every legendary warrior, every so-called genius, and every great leader was just some guy who got lucky, but their biographer happened to be a world-class storyteller?

A king who lost his empire? “Betrayed by fate, he faced an insurmountable storm.“
(Translation: He made dumb decisions, ignored warnings, and got kicked out.)

A scientist who messed up? “In his relentless pursuit of truth, he dared to challenge the limits of knowledge.“
(Translation: He forgot to carry the one.)

A philosopher who “reshaped human thought”? “He spent years in deep contemplation, questioning the essence of existence.“
(Translation: He sat under a tree.)


Now, apply this to your own life.

That time you overslept? “A bold defiance of society’s rigid schedules.“
(Translation: You hit snooze twelve times.)

The time you got lost on vacation? “An unplanned journey of self-discovery, where every wrong turn was a lesson from the universe.”
(Translation: You refused to ask for directions.)

The time you spent an hour looking for your sunglasses while they were on your head? “A symbolic battle between perception and reality.“
(Translation: You’re a disaster.)

That time you forgot someone’s name five seconds after meeting them? “A tragic commentary on the impermanence of human connections.“
(Translation: You weren’t listening.)

That awkward conversation where you tried to walk away but both of you kept stepping in the same direction? “A highly choreographed yet unspoken ritual demonstrating the delicate balance of human interaction.“
(Translation: You did the mirror dance and lost all dignity.)

That moment when you confidently explained something and later realized you were completely wrong? “A fearless exploration into the limitless possibilities of misinformation.“
(Translation: You talked nonsense, and now you’re just hoping nobody fact-checks you.)

That time you sent a message to the wrong group chat? “A bold experiment in social communication, pushing the boundaries of interpersonal connection.”
(Translation: You just sent your work gossip to your family.)


Maybe the real secret is this: nothing is dramatic until it’s written down. Once you start documenting your life like history, even your smallest hardships, mistakes, and embarrassing moments become grand events. Not because they were rare, but because they happened to you—and you, my friend, get to decide how they’re remembered.

So go ahead, exaggerate. Embellish. Play with words. You’re not lying; you’re just following in the footsteps of every historian ever. If history can turn questionable figures into heroes and minor events into world-altering moments, then you can absolutely turn your struggle to open a jar into a “monumental test of human resilience against the unyielding forces of nature.“

(Translation: You banged the jar on the counter twice, gave up, and handed it to someone stronger.)

And that time you made toast?
“A culinary masterpiece, a testament to the human spirit’s ability to harness the very fires of creation.“
(Translation: You made toast.)