Here's a hard pill to swallow: the world doesn't revolve around you.

You can't decipher tone through text too well, so know that I don't mean to be abrasive in beginning with something that's almost always delivered in such a way.

No matter how often I remind myself of this universal truth—because if all things aren't concerning just me, then that certainly can't be the case for anyone else—I can never fully shake the feeling that I perceive myself as "The Main Character Of Everything To Ever Happen" (or at least as it relates to me).

Despite how humbly we deny exhibiting this very human tendency, logically, there's nothing inherently wrong with it. When stripped to its most basic definition, the main character is someone we become simply by serving as the central figure to the only perspective we will ever truly experience. This isn't egotism, it's just an aspect of perception that we can't change.

In terms of reading a book, something so simple as the perspective of its narration is detrimental to how events, things, and people are then subjectively described to you, the reader.

We are spoon-fed everything that the main character thinks, says, and does. We often develop the same biases because theirs are typically the only ones we have to consider. The language is strategically crafted in a way to frame the details that only matter to them. Hardly are we ever receiving the full picture, in both a literary and a literal sense. And when it's our own story, we often fail to even notice anything else that doesn't affect us in some sort of way.

I'm almost certain this is something that actually holds true when our elders admonish, "just wait till you have kids," but I can't stand the thought of ever living with a subconscious self-importance, even if it's just how we're wired.

Luckily, I found something that sums this feeling up a little more pleasantly.

Whether or not you've heard of it, you must be familiar with the following concept, for the "protagonist theory" explains the only mindset from which you've probably never disengaged: the notion that you are both the main character and—for those of us with the right self-esteem—the hero of your own story.

It's quite easy to use the labels interchangeably, and with that, incorrectly, for only one accurately signifies everything you envision a protagonist to be. Those admirable qualities you quietly award yourself. Not to say that this is a false sense of self-image, but how often are we really living the duality of the protagonist in our everyday lives?

Whenever I'm honest with myself about this answer, I feel crushed under the pressure to create meaning inorganically. I create high expectations for myself to do the most, prevail, and earn the merit granted to every protagonist in their happily ever after. But this? This has created a version of myself that I don't root for, a story I don't care to finish.

Still, on an ordinary basis, I find myself living with the most meaning when pursuing something even if it's trivial, and dare I say even if it's not at all for my benefit. Whether or not we're intrinsically ambitious, our 'be busy' culture has only reinforced this—a need to already be a step ahead, often turning the principle of self-improvement to selfishness. Sure, we're really the only ones with the ability to advance our own lives, but we fail to realize how much we affect that of others along the way.

No matter what role we assume, we balance our own objectives and then the vital support of everyone else we encounter.

This doesn't always look like what it is, though. It certainly doesn't appear with the glamour we secretly seek or even any real importance sometimes. But taking ourselves out of the center of things every once in a while places us in a position to return to our own goals with a clear mind and usually with the relationships beneficial in achieving them. Once we recognize how much our own story depends on the continuation of others', we grow more aware, invested, and immersed in our surroundings. Overall, more present for all that is happening around us, from which we can derive meaning for our own lives.

Ironically enough, that ended somewhat on a selfish note. But hey, it's called character development for a reason, right?