Earlier this week, I walked around my neighborhood looking for a place to buy a Powerball ticket.

I hadn’t even found a store yet, and something interesting had already happened. My body relaxed. My shoulders dropped a bit. My brain started drifting. That familiar little release kicked in before I’d spent a dollar. I caught myself imagining what I’d do if I won, not in a spreadsheet or “be responsible” way, but in quick flashes. Relief. Space. Fewer things to juggle in my head.

It’s not the money. It’s the question: what would I do if I won? That’s where the dopamine lives. But here's what I didn't expect: the fantasy also shows you what's been quietly draining you.

I always think about that Friends episode where the group buys lottery tickets and everyone starts sharing fantasies. And when Ross says, “I don’t know, I’d probably just invest it,” everyone yells at him for being boring. Because there’s no fantasy there. No emotional release. No permission to imagine a different version of your life.

I’ve played Mega Millions and Powerball over the last 15 years. Not obsessively. Maybe once a year on average, usually when the numbers get absurd and the headlines start shouting “largest ever.” Which, of course, keeps happening. The games were tweaked a few years ago. Lower odds, fewer winners, bigger and bigger payouts. It’s designed to keep the fantasy alive.

What I’ve noticed in myself isn’t about the odds. It’s about the feeling. You buy the ticket and your imagination takes over. It’s oddly calming. Almost meditative. It’s a drug, in the most mundane sense of the word. That’s why people keep buying tickets, chasing that same internal shift.

I'll be honest. I've mostly bought lottery tickets when I was feeling low. Not because I thought I'd win. But because I knew I'd feel better for a few hours. A cheap, legal way to let my brain take a break from whatever it was chewing on.

Usually it was startup stuff. The highs in this world are absurdly high, but the lows are heavy in a way that's hard to explain. The kind that sits in your chest and makes everything feel like a slog. In those moments, I didn't need a solution. I just needed a topic change. Something to give my brain permission to wander somewhere lighter for a bit. A $2 reset button. I've never actually told anyone this. I don't know if other people do it too, or if it's just me.

As I searched for an open bodega to buy a ticket, my brain started handing me information. I caught myself thinking: I'd buy a place in Manhattan and finally end that annoying annual conversation I have with myself about whether to renew, move, or uproot my life again. Have I outgrown my neighborhood? Am I still in NYC for a reason or just because I haven't left yet?

For a couple bucks, the lottery gives you instant access to your fantasies. But more interestingly, it exposes your triggers. The things that are creating friction. The background loops you keep running instead of resolving.

I didn't end up buying the ticket. I woke up this morning without any regret. My brain had already gotten the hit.

And I walked away with something useful. The apartment thing isn't solved — I'll still have that conversation with myself over the next few months. But now I can see it for what it is: one decision, in one box, that doesn't need to bleed into everything else. That's the shift. Not fixing the loop, but stopping it from dragging down the rest.

With 2026 around the corner, everyone's thinking about goals. Learn something new. Travel more. Build something. But not every goal has to be about adding. Sometimes the goal is just... knowing yourself a little better. Understanding what drains you. Recognizing the loops that steal your peace before you've even noticed they're running. Not so you can solve them all, but so you can stop letting them slow everything else down.

That's a goal too. Maybe the most underrated one.

Not a bad return on a ticket I never bought.

I Pebble You,
Ankit

"I Pebble You" is a heartfelt collection of thoughtful moments — articles, memes, videos, and insights —that spark joy and connection. Inspired by how penguins gift pebbles to their loved ones, it’s a space to pause, reflect, and share. Subscribe to receive these meaningful pebbles in your inbox, and add your own to help build something bigger — because together, we create more thoughtful connections.

👉 Read the previous pebble "The Churn Before the Nectar"
👉 Read the original pebble "I Pebble You"

Earlier this week, I walked around my neighborhood looking for a place to buy a Powerball ticket.

I hadn’t even found a store yet, and something interesting had already happened. My body relaxed. My shoulders dropped a bit. My brain started drifting. That familiar little release kicked in before I’d spent a dollar. I caught myself imagining what I’d do if I won, not in a spreadsheet or “be responsible” way, but in quick flashes. Relief. Space. Fewer things to juggle in my head.

It’s not the money. It’s the question: what would I do if I won? That’s where the dopamine lives. But here's what I didn't expect: the fantasy also shows you what's been quietly draining you.

I always think about that Friends episode where the group buys lottery tickets and everyone starts sharing fantasies. And when Ross says, “I don’t know, I’d probably just invest it,” everyone yells at him for being boring. Because there’s no fantasy there. No emotional release. No permission to imagine a different version of your life.

I’ve played Mega Millions and Powerball over the last 15 years. Not obsessively. Maybe once a year on average, usually when the numbers get absurd and the headlines start shouting “largest ever.” Which, of course, keeps happening. The games were tweaked a few years ago. Lower odds, fewer winners, bigger and bigger payouts. It’s designed to keep the fantasy alive.

What I’ve noticed in myself isn’t about the odds. It’s about the feeling. You buy the ticket and your imagination takes over. It’s oddly calming. Almost meditative. It’s a drug, in the most mundane sense of the word. That’s why people keep buying tickets, chasing that same internal shift.

I'll be honest. I've mostly bought lottery tickets when I was feeling low. Not because I thought I'd win. But because I knew I'd feel better for a few hours. A cheap, legal way to let my brain take a break from whatever it was chewing on.

Usually it was startup stuff. The highs in this world are absurdly high, but the lows are heavy in a way that's hard to explain. The kind that sits in your chest and makes everything feel like a slog. In those moments, I didn't need a solution. I just needed a topic change. Something to give my brain permission to wander somewhere lighter for a bit. A $2 reset button. I've never actually told anyone this. I don't know if other people do it too, or if it's just me.

As I searched for an open bodega to buy a ticket, my brain started handing me information. I caught myself thinking: I'd buy a place in Manhattan and finally end that annoying annual conversation I have with myself about whether to renew, move, or uproot my life again. Have I outgrown my neighborhood? Am I still in NYC for a reason or just because I haven't left yet?

For a couple bucks, the lottery gives you instant access to your fantasies. But more interestingly, it exposes your triggers. The things that are creating friction. The background loops you keep running instead of resolving.

I didn't end up buying the ticket. I woke up this morning without any regret. My brain had already gotten the hit.

And I walked away with something useful. The apartment thing isn't solved — I'll still have that conversation with myself over the next few months. But now I can see it for what it is: one decision, in one box, that doesn't need to bleed into everything else. That's the shift. Not fixing the loop, but stopping it from dragging down the rest.

With 2026 around the corner, everyone's thinking about goals. Learn something new. Travel more. Build something. But not every goal has to be about adding. Sometimes the goal is just... knowing yourself a little better. Understanding what drains you. Recognizing the loops that steal your peace before you've even noticed they're running. Not so you can solve them all, but so you can stop letting them slow everything else down.

That's a goal too. Maybe the most underrated one.

Not a bad return on a ticket I never bought.

I Pebble You,
Ankit

"I Pebble You" is a heartfelt collection of thoughtful moments — articles, memes, videos, and insights —that spark joy and connection. Inspired by how penguins gift pebbles to their loved ones, it’s a space to pause, reflect, and share. Subscribe to receive these meaningful pebbles in your inbox, and add your own to help build something bigger — because together, we create more thoughtful connections.

👉 Read the previous pebble "The Churn Before the Nectar"
👉 Read the original pebble "I Pebble You"