If you could be someone else for a day, who would you be, and why?

If I could be someone else for a day, I’d choose… a better version of myself. Not just slightly improved—no, I’m talking about Me 2.0: The Deluxe, Limited-Edition, Enlightened Guru Version. The kind of person who wakes up naturally at sunrise, stretches like a yoga master, and greets the morning with a deep appreciation for existence instead of the usual “Why am I awake? Who authorized this?”

This Better Me doesn’t just tolerate life—he relishes it. He finds beauty in everything. The way the sun gently warms the earth. The poetic sound of birds chirping. The existential mystery of why every public restroom has a wet floor. He sees struggles not as problems but as “opportunities for growth.” Meanwhile, Regular Me sees struggles and immediately drafts a resignation letter from life.

Better Me never judges. Not the guy who chews with his mouth open like he’s broadcasting his meal in 4K. Not the person who stops at the top of an escalator like they’ve just discovered Earth’s gravitational pull. Not even the coworker who says “Let’s circle back” in meetings just to sound important. No, Better Me understands that everyone is on their own journey. Regular Me, however, is convinced that some people’s “journey” needs a GPS, a map, and possibly a police escort away from society.

And oh, Better Me lives in the present. He doesn’t waste time replaying past embarrassments, like that moment in 2009 when he confidently walked into the wrong house. He doesn’t worry about the future because he trusts the universe. Regular Me, on the other hand, knows that the universe has a sense of humor—and that humor usually involves losing Wi-Fi right before an important deadline.

But let’s be honest: this Better Me is a fantasy. He is as real as a gym membership in February. If he existed, people wouldn’t even like him. “Look at that guy, always happy, always wise—ugh, disgusting.” No one wants to hang out with someone who actually enjoys waiting in line.

So, instead of striving for this imaginary perfection, I’ll settle for being Slightly Improved Me. Maybe I’ll laugh a little more. Maybe I’ll judge people, but only in my head. Maybe I’ll stop taking life so seriously—because, at the end of the day, none of us really know what we’re doing. We’re just advanced apes wearing pants, pretending we have a plan.

And honestly? That’s good enough.