TRANSCRIPT:

When I was 18 years old, my father took me to the Wishing Well. As was tradition, every two weeks, all adults would toss money into the well and make a wish. I toss in a quarter, and wish for the only thing I want - happiness. It is a common wish, so I don’t see any reason it wouldn’t be granted.

Later, I hear everyone else bragging about their happiness, or love, or whatever else they wished for. But I do not feel happy. I must not have put in enough money into the well. 

So I get a job. Every two weeks I give a portion of my paycheck to the Wishing Well. It hasn’t worked yet, so I dedicate myself to my career to get more and more money. 

10 years later, I regularly take large stacks of cash, and I make it rain down the Wishing Well. I watch with anticipation as the bills flutter down into the abyss. And still, the Wishing Well will not grant me happiness. I know it’s silly to keep trying, but the hope that it will someday work is the only thing keeping me going.

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I threw all my money down a wishing well | A parable on happiness (transcription in comments)