Alex, an office worker, once toiled comfortably with a simple mouse and keyboard, never minding their specs. Then, a video surfaced, "Your Mouse is Killing Your Wrist," declaring mice over 60 grams a ticking time bomb. Alex, suddenly aware, felt a seed of doubt sprout.

His digital feed exploded with ergonomic gurus: "Is Your Keyboard a Carpal Tunnel Trap?" He started obsessing over mouse grams and keyboard angles. His unexamined comfort became a source of intense anxiety. Fitness videos, "Stop Doing These Killer Exercises!" made him abandon workouts altogether, fearing injury.

Convinced his cheap gear was harming him, Alex yearned for a "perfect" setup. He sacrificed a family trip for a mechanical keyboard, only for it to give him cramps in a week. "Must be a low-profile one I need!" he rationalized, as the new keyboard collected dust. He was trapped in a "chicken or egg" dilemma of discomfort and correction, constantly wondering, "Why does nothing feel right?"

The imagined pains became real. His back ached, wrists throbbed. The fear of worsening his "injuries" consumed him. He quit his job, moving back with his parents, unable to touch any gadget. He saw orthopedists, neurologists, and physical therapists. MRIs, massages, ultrasounds—all yielded no definitive cause.

Alex found himself caught: afraid of working due to pain, yet unsure if he was just afraid of not affording the "perfect" setup. Would even the ideal tools bring peace? Months passed in unemployment, the line between genuine pain and anxious overthinking blurred.

Now, Alex fears simple chores, convinced his limbs might "tear apart." His fingers tremble holding a spoon. The relentless pursuit of comfort had rendered him utterly uncomfortable, a prisoner of his own unexamined fears.