Do what you wish

The second half of The Never-ending Story by Michael Ende revolves around a central question:

“What is it that I truly desire?”

The protagonist, Bastian, wanders aimlessly through a world where all his wishes can come true, only to find himself gradually losing his very sense of wishing.
Clutching the medallion inscribed with the words “Do what you wish,” 

he continues his journey—spiraling ever deeper into confusion.

We often don’t really know what it is we want.

Even my seemingly simple and material desire —“I want a home ”—

contains within it a multitude of smaller, more complex wishes, 

ranging from the trivial to the profound. 

And many of these wishes don’t reveal themselves until the moment I’m faced with the actual choices.

Do I want an antique home or a newly built one?
Would I rather be close to a train station or surrounded by nature?
Should I stretch my budget for a fully renovated property,
or go with something slightly worn but easier to afford and maintain?
Or perhaps, should I just stick to renting and enjoy the freedom that comes with it?

Each time a new option appears, I find myself hesitating—
“What do I really think about this?”
Our desires always depend on context, and while some options get ruled out automatically, others remain open, and I often find myself unsure whether choosing them would be good or bad for me.

I just wasn’t ready.
That’s what I think about the cancellation of the contract.

After all, the very first offer I ever made got accepted.
Just four days after the viewing, they had already emailed me the contract.
Everyone always said how hard it was to buy a house, how much people struggled—
so I asked Zoroku, feeling doubtful at how easily everything was falling into place.
“…This isn’t some kind of scam, is it?”
He looked into the real estate agent and told me, 

“No, it’s not a scam.”
Apparently, despite some reviews saying they were a bit sloppy,
they were a legitimate agency, handling mostly small properties.

Still, a seed of suspicion lingered inside me.
It all seemed too good to be true.
Maybe there was a trap somewhere.
Maybe I was overlooking something.

After all, this desire would bind me to a 30-year mortgage.

It’s not like buying a cat sweater online on a whim at midnight.

A 48-year-old Leo woman buying a black cat sweater (true story).

Zoroku and I went through the contract together, line by line,

and unearthed a whole new set of concerns.

The property was old, and there were exemption clauses about its age.
There might be asbestos.
The definition and valuation of the remaining furnishings were vague.
The homeowners’ association (VvE) might not be functioning properly.
There was a clause to cancel the contract if the mortgage wasn’t approved,
but it required official rejection letters from three banks.
If I couldn’t provide those documents in time,
I’d be liable to pay 10% of the purchase price.... 

I got scared and started asking the real estate agent (of the seller!) about everything.
I requested a second viewing of the property,
and that’s when I started noticing all the flaws I’d missed the first time.
And when those flaws were in the kitchen or bathroom—essential water systems—
the renovation costs would be no joke.
Wear, damage, and imperfections only multiplied the more I looked.
And reacting to each of those concerns is what ultimately led to the collapse of the deal.

Strangely enough, once it became clear the whole thing had fallen through, I felt relieved.
It felt like I was free from a strange money-eating money I didn’t understand.

After that, I returned to viewing other properties—
making offers and getting rejected,
viewing homes only to find them overpriced,
or seeing places and thinking, “Nope, I don’t want this”—
yet somehow,
my mind keeps returning to that one place I almost had.

After going in circles, I still feel like it was a good spot.
Maybe I threw away a stroke of luck.
It was old and worn-out, sure,
but you could see the traces of a woman shaping it exactly to her own liking.

Looking back, I feel bad for the real estate agent.
He probably trusted me based on how I came across during the viewing,
but I didn’t fully understand what does it mean.
From my side, I was suspicious of him the entire time.
He looked like Kevin Costner playing a washed-up con man.
Well, that’s not the only reason—it's okay though. 

I never met her, but behind that agent was a woman,
probably in a situation very similar to mine, trying to sell her home.
Just as I had been full of anxiety about buying,
she must have been anxious about whether she could sell.

Back then, I couldn’t see it that way.
I didn’t realize that behind every real estate agent
stands a human being,
trying to part with their one and only asset.

There are things you just can’t see until you’ve experienced them.

I really do think it was a valuable lesson.

There’s a Japanese saying: 
“When you’re young, it’s worth paying for your mistakes.”

well, I’m not exactly young anymore,
so I wouldn’t say it was worth paying for this mistake,
but still—
it was a mistake that brought my true desires closer to the surface.
So in that sense, it was a good mistake.

Having reflected on it all,
I think Zoroku and I have become an even more perfect team.
And if the ideal home appears on the market again,
this time, we might actually be able to secure it for real.

I really hope that’s how it turns out.