Aubade #18 – SKIP

As a UI/UX designer, I have a habit of browsing, scanning, and analyzing websites. On one particular site, I noticed something strange—a disproportionate yet strangely beautiful button: ‘Skip.’ It sat right in the center of the screen, looking so eye-catching that my cursor drifted toward it on its own. An effective hover state lit up, and I craved clicking it like a pilgrim in the desert craves water.

It was a perversion of the user interface, but it got me thinking…

Do you remember the first game you installed? Or the new software you set up? A window popped up: “Terms and Conditions” or “Tutorial.” What did you do? Of course, you didn’t read it. Instinctively, through muscle memory, you clicked—Skip, I Agree, Next, Next, Finish.

Because you were in a hurry. You wanted to start the “game” quickly. You thought the main point was in the process, the shooting, the rendering, the result. Who needs texts and instructions, right?

But now, think about it: What did you miss?

Maybe that text you mindlessly bypassed held the ultimate Cheat Code? Maybe it explained how to fly, or how not to get hurt when you fall? Maybe that skipped tutorial explained how your psychic “inventory” works. Yet here we are, wandering through this massive world, fumbling in the dark, mashing buttons, and wondering—why isn’t it working? Why are we glitching?

We treat our lives the same way.

In childhood, we want to grow up fast — Skip Childhood.

In school, we want the bell to ring — Skip Lesson.

In university, we just want the diploma — Skip Learning.

At work, we sit and dream of Friday — Skip Weekdays.

When we feel bad, we want to sleep just to make time pass — Skip Pain.

And you know what happens? On our life’s timeline, only artifacts remain. Only the “key” frames: birth, parties, sex, travel, success… The rest? The other 90% is just a Loading Screen or a boring Cutscene that we frantically try to skip.

That is exactly why it feels like years are passing at the speed of light. When you were 10 years old, summer lasted a century. Do you know why? Because back then, you didn’t have a “Skip” button. You were forced to live through the boredom, the heat, the waiting. You experienced the full frame, second by second.

And now? Now your brain is on autopilot. You stand in traffic, staring at your phone—skipping reality. You talk to someone, thinking about what to reply—skipping the listening. You lie in bed scrolling—skipping your own thoughts.

And from a technical standpoint, do you know what the biggest tragedy is? The “functions” we skipped don’t come back. You can no longer go into Settings and check “Show Tutorial on Startup.” That code has already executed. Compilation is complete.

You, my dear friend, are now standing in the middle of the game. Chaos is all around, enemies are attacking, and you don’t know which button activates the shield. You don’t know because, back in the day, you clicked Skip.

But you know what? There is still a chance. Today, just stop. Don’t click next. When something hurts—don’t run away. Feel it. When you get bored—don’t pick up your phone. Sit in that boredom. When someone is talking—don’t think about the answer. Listen to the pain hidden in their voice.

Turn off the autopilot. Switch to manual transmission. Yes, it’s hard. The engine might stall, you’ll struggle, but in return—you will feel that you are driving.

The meaning of life isn’t in the finale or watching the credits roll. The meaning is exactly in those “boring” dialogues we are so eager to fast-forward.

Don’t let the beauty of the Skip button and its charming hover seduce you. Don’t click it! Read the instructions of life—every pain, every moment of boredom, every dialogue. Comprehend what strengthens you. Comprehend what makes your character real. Don’t jump over the main lessons, because that is exactly where the code is written that finally turns you into a better human, a better warrior.