“I am now 33 years old, and it feels like much time has passed and is passing faster and faster every day. Day to day I have to make all sorts of choices about what is good and important and fun, and then I have to live with the forfeiture of all the other options those choices foreclose. And I’m starting to see how as time gains momentum my choices will narrow and their foreclosures multiply exponentially until I arrive at some point on some branch of all life’s sumptuous branching complexity at which I am finally locked in and stuck on one path and time speeds me through stages of stasis and atrophy and decay until I go down for the third time, all struggle for naught, drowned by time. It is dreadful. But since it’s my own choices that’ll lock me in, it seems unavoidable–if I want to be any kind of grownup, I have to make choices and regret foreclosures and try to live with them.”
― David Foster Wallace, A Supposedly Fun Thing I’ll Never Do Again: Essays and Arguments
This quote from David Foster Wallace’s essay collection, “A Supposedly Fun Thing I’ll Never Do Again: Essays and Arguments,” touches on themes of existential angst, the passage of time, personal agency, and the inevitable narrowing of life’s possibilities due to the choices we make.
Wallace was known for his keen observations on the human condition, often exploring the complexities and paradoxes of modern life with a mix of humor, insight, and profound philosophical inquiry.
At the age of 33, Wallace reflects on his growing awareness of time’s acceleration, a sensation many people report feeling as they age.
This perception is not just about the passage of time but also about the increasing burden of choices and their consequences.
Every choice made in life—what to prioritize, what to value, what to enjoy—necessarily involves the sacrifice of alternative paths.
This process of choosing and foregoing alternatives is a fundamental aspect of the human experience, which Wallace articulates with acute sensitivity.
Wallace’s reflection goes deeper into the existential implications of these choices. He recognizes that as time progresses, the accumulation of choices leads to a narrowing of future possibilities.
This narrowing is not just a reduction in options but a kind of existential funneling, guiding one inexorably towards a fixed point or identity, from which deviation becomes increasingly difficult.
The metaphor of life’s “sumptuous branching complexity” beautifully illustrates the potential richness of human experience and the poignant loss felt as paths are chosen and others left unexplored.
The inevitability of this process leads Wallace to contemplate a future where one becomes “locked in,” where the momentum of past choices propels one through life stages of stasis, decay, and ultimately, death.
This vision is “dreadful” to him, not only because of its finality but also because it highlights the struggle against the inexorable flow of time—a struggle that ultimately seems futile.
Yet, Wallace recognizes an essential truth: the very act of making choices, despite the foreclosures and regrets, is integral to adulthood and personal growth.
The acceptance of responsibility for one’s choices, and the willingness to live with the consequences, is what defines maturity.
This acknowledgment does not alleviate the dread of existential narrowing but frames it as a necessary aspect of the human condition.