When you are born and manage to get into a school, it will appear to you that there are people under you, at your level and above you.
You start thinking the whole thing is a race. You will be thinking how are you going to compete in the race.
You ask your parents and they tell you to go to a college and get a good job. Then get a nice wife (if she accepts you), and then couple of kids. Nobody warns you about anything.
You are now part of the race. A race which is considered as real as it gets.
You realize that some people start from different starting points: a few are born into a rich families with good genetics, while some need to start from far behind with poor parents, poor genetics and highly oppressive environment.
You feel inferiority when comparing yourself to the people who had the luck to start the race ahead of everyone else. "Why me?", you ask yourself.
Somewhere far in the distance you can see the finishing line. You believe after you break the line ahead of everyone else, you will finally be complete. This is the line of happiness you have been dreaming about.
You reach the finishing line and notice that nothing changes. No completion. No happiness. What happened?
You believed in the race. You believed the starting line was real, although there was no certain method pinpointing it precisely anywhere – it was completely relative arbitrary line compared to people you managed to perceive.
You believed in the finishing line, although it was just an idea from someone else, who probably never had reached the point by himself; he probably believed that was the reason for his feeling of incompleteness.
What if you didn't believe in the race at all; or better knew that it was just an illusion? What if you knew that only the struggle is real? What if you knew who you are and created a race of your own?