It’s easy to feel as though years spent investing, refining, loving something was a waste if it amounted into nothing.
Maybe it’s a sport, a profession, a friendship, a romantic relationship.
Whatever it is, it feels as though if it did not amount to what you thought it would, it was a waste of time. Or that if it ended in spite, none of it was real.
But that’s not true, you know. Life isn’t about the end results – although of course I wish shit always worked out.
It’s about through it all, did I love my hardest? Honor my principles the best I could? Know that I leaned into the truth every day and then made the choices that I did?
It’s upsetting, for sure. Sad, certainly. But a waste of time? Nah… if the value of my time spent was measured by whether the end results were deemed worth it or not, I’d be denying myself of my humanity.
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