8 April, sunny
After twenty scattered days of writing, I asked myself the most basic question: why bother trying?
Not so that someone will look up to me, and not so I can match someone else’s picture of a good life. The plainest answer is — so that I have a choice.
Someone capable of things can choose to stay or to leave; can choose to do a thing or to refuse it. Effort never buys honour; it buys options. The more options you have, the calmer you become.
The point of effort is to turn “I have to” into “I can”.
Win the right to choose back into your own hands, inch by inch.
Twenty essays, and this is the one I stop at.
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