One of the worst things I can think of to be remembered as is someone who once tried their best every day to do big things (and believed in their potential to do those big things) then stopped because they wanted an easier, less stressful, more financially secure life.
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This is super relevant to me, especially today. Was just having a conversation last night with a poet friend about how we only do non-creative work as much as we have to, to (mostly) pay the bills, but how sometimes when we’re really struggling we think about packing it in and getting Real Jobs that would give us a more stable life. But then we don’t because, well, as a different friend of mine once put it re: being a broke musician: “I fucked myself over at a young age, so I figured I better stick with it. I don’t want anything to fall back on…because then I’d have something to fall back on.”