The misconception is that your worth is equal to the work you do. The misconception is that you can only reward yourself if you’ve reached certain goals in terms of production, in terms of creating something others will benefit from. The misconception is that your life is dictated by the obscene theories of economy or sociology or any sciences for that matter.
A hamster wheel of massive proportions that we keep trudging, making electricity out of our tired muscles and groaning sinews, making a bulb come alive with sparkling luminescence, turning shafts of grain grinders, a science project that plays out as a cosmic joke, unravelling throughout our lives and the lives of those who come after us.
Remember, you don’t owe anyone anything. Your work doesn’t even begin to describe you, let alone measuring your worth.
We’ve always talked about how selfless the sun is, burning itself up just to keep us warm, and I think that shows our flaws as a race to a great extent. The fact that we’d consider ourselves important enough to assume it is for us, that the sun burns and flames.
The fact that it becomes impossible for us to consider, the sun doesn’t care about us, it would’ve burnt anyway, regardless of who or what walked the Earth, or even if nothing did. There are millions of stars speckling the farthest corner of this universe, and they’re growing, multiplying, burning out only to be replaced.
Yet, none of them exist to please someone else, none of them burn to illuminate moons for you to romanticize about. If they don’t, why should you?
The only obligation you have is to yourself. If you have to burn, do so to light up your own existence into a blinding intensity of light which can’t be touched, can’t be looked at. A light so pure it cleanses every space of darkness.
A light so warm it thaws every inch of yourself from the winter snow and makes way for a glorious spring, waiting to make you bloom into a brighter you, a happier you.