Why do we assume that our lives aren't interesting? Sensations are distinct, experiences affect us differently, we're impacted more by one person than another. Despite all our little idiosyncrasies, a vast majority of us seem to hold the common ideal that what we're doing is not enough.

The other day at work, I had an interesting conversation with a customer. While we were discussing spring break and vacation, she pulled out her phone to show me a photo on Instagram. It depicted this young, tan and fit girl on a gorgeous beach in Hawaii. Now, naturally I assumed that was her upcoming vacation destination, as we were looking at swimsuits. However, she drearily sighed and said, “I wish. But it's just too expensive.” She then proceeded to affirm that she felt completely fine with living vicariously through others.

I remember merely laughing it off and continuing on with my day, but the reality of it is that we all do it. In this age, it is so easy for us to log on to our favorite social media and watch someone else live the life we always wanted for ourselves. I know for a fact that I live vicariously through others constantly. I follow YouTubers who travel for a living. I follow celebrities on Snapchat to get a glimpse of what their day to day is like. If I'm honest, I'll admit that I follow over 300 strangers on Instagram that live on tropical islands and are basically models.

Now I pondered over this for a while until I realized that this behavior is akin to my teenage self, cutting out photos from Seventeen magazine and taping them to my wall. We live and breathe idol culture. We are bombarded by these images of people who have "figured it out," who have been graced with lives so interesting that we tune ours out. And while getting to see these beautiful people in these magical places can help us escape any unfortunate realities we face, it very subtly removes us from being present with those we love.

So often, we look to these people—these idols, and wonder what it is we have done wrong to end up in the situations we are in. We obsess over the formula for success so much, that we devalue ourselves, diminish our accomplishments and worst of all, compare ourselves to others. What I have been trying to remind myself when the ugly, green giant rears its head, is that there is a multitude of differences between my life and the idols I look up to. Many of them were born in these tropical places, came into money, met people with connections—the list could go on and on.

So how can we continually insist on torturing ourselves with an ambiguous picture when we don't have any knowledge of the particulars? Let me just reiterate that admiring and aspiring for these lifestyles is perfectly normal and well, human. Still, how long can we really continue to simply watch before we finally become so dissatisfied with our lives that we become complacent with stagnation? Maybe if we take a break from wishing for another person's skewed reality, we might be able to appreciate our own.