The second place syndrome is the permanent feeling of never being enough, regardless of results. It does not matter what you achieve: someone always has more, and that comparison ruins every conquest. Stefano analyzes it as one of the slowest poisons of the modern era: we live in a global showcase where second place feels like defeat, and first place always seems occupied by someone else. The cure is not winning — it is to stop looking at the scoreboard.
What Stefano says about the second place syndrome
From Letter 01 — Here we go again
And it's not anxiety or fear. It's that silent certainty of not being in the right place wherever you are. That whatever you've done, it's not enough. That there exists a version of you that you haven't reached yet, and maybe never will.
Not compared to someone else, but compared to what you feel you could be. This distance doesn't close, not with work, not with money, let alone with cities. It doesn't close with anything.
From Letter 02 — Choosing who to be
I wrote in my journal: "I always thought others were better than me. That they had something more. That they were more capable, more attractive, more performing."
Because the only competition that matters is the one with yourself. Not with who you think others are. But with who you know you can become.
From Letter 03 — The price no one wants to pay
Fifty-four attempts to become better. This is the third. Best, Stefano.
From Letter 04 — Week 4 of 54 — Happiness is a habit
For years I thought I would be happy when. When I had enough money. When I had the right company. When I found the right person. When I reached the right place.
And every time I got there, happiness lasted three days. Then the emptiness returned. Then the hunger returned. Then that feeling in your chest returned, telling you "it's not enough, it's still not enough."
From Letter 05 — Week 5 of 54 — The real cancer
It happens when you stop asking yourself "what can I learn from what others do?" and start asking yourself "where am I compared to others?"
And that debt, apparently, is a better measure of comparison than any life we see on Instagram.
From Letter 06 — Week 6 of 54 — Monkey mind
Why am I getting these results right now and not others?
And where does it come from? Doctrines. Academic teachings devoid of life experiences. Books studied without living them. Family patterns we might not have chosen. Voices of others we mistook for our own.
From Letter 07 — Week 7 of 54 — The art of defining your boundaries
▎ "The limit. The boundary line, the keystone. Everyone has one, but often it's not enough. Often it doesn't mark existence, it marks resistance."
Generic like a hotel room: clean, functional, identical to all the others. You sleep there and tomorrow you don't remember being there.
From Letter 08 — Week 8 of 54 — Those who don't come down from the mountain
The question is: which of the two is better off now?
I can't convince myself that staying would have been better.
From Letter 09 — Week 8 of 54 — Those Who Don't Come Down from the Mountain
The question is: which of the two is better off now?
Those who don't come downThose who chaseStay where they areStay where they will beThe day is already enoughThe day is a stageKnow what they'll do tomorrowDon't even know where they'll beKnow ten people, wellKnow a thousand people, poorlyTheir life isn't a storyTheir life is already a narrativeHave no dreams to fulfillHave dreams to fulfillHave no dreams to fulfillHave dreams to fulfill
From Letter 10 — Week 9 of 54 — The music we keep inside
There's something that's never said enough about that story, and that the movie tells without fear.
It was: what about me? And others like me? And the children from last week's village?
From Letter 11 — Week 10 of 54 — The Man on the Roof
He arrives before all the others. Always. At seven he's already on the roof — the roof of a building that doesn't exist yet, exposed rebar sticking out of concrete, wooden planks, no protection, as if he were immortal.
For the first half hour he's alone, him and the cold. Then the others arrive, but meanwhile he's already started: the blows on the iron rise up to my window while the city, behind him, wakes up calmly.
From Letter 12 — Week 11 of 54 — The traffic light
Because every decision of ours hides behind it a series of behaviors and habits that prevent us from changing and being better.
That's the thing that drove me crazy. Not the traffic light. The fact that I have the brain to understand by myself what's right for me — I have it, it works, I know how to do the analysis — and then I outsource to the first stranger who passes the job of giving me the green light. As if my decision, alone, wasn't worth enough. As if I always needed someone else's signature at the bottom of the page to say "ok, you can go."
From Letter 13 — Week 12 of 54 — Head on the Pillow
And usually there's only one way this ends. You open Instagram and scroll for an hour, until you fall asleep in worse shape than before.
Fifty-four attempts to become better. This is the twelfth. Best, Stefano.
From Letter 14 — Week 13 of 54 — The Punishment
And after a while something strange happened. The children who were rewarded started drawing less. The ones who received nothing kept going like before, for the pleasure of it. The others didn't — the reward had switched something off. They had stopped drawing out of love, and were only drawing in relation to the prize.
Fifty-four attempts to become better. This is the thirteenth. Best, Stefano.