When I die, nobody is going to care what I did with my life.
They’re not going to care about the achievements I was once so proud of. They’re not going to remember the talent that once impressed me so much about myself. Nobody is going to know or care what my IQ was.
The only thing people will remember about me — if they remember anything at all — is how I’ve made them feel. The only way I’m going to matter to others is if I’ve somehow shown genuine love to them or helped them find meaning in their own lives.
I’ve recently realized that I’ve had it all wrong for a long time. I’ve been letting my ego get in the way of being the person I need to be. I understand how that happened — and I’ll tell you about that in a minute — but the bottom line is that I’ve been chasing the wrong things.
I’ve wanted to be a star. I’ve wanted to be important. I craved the feeling of mattering to others, so I’ve unconsciously pursued a kind of success that would matter only to the wounded heart of my hidden inner child.

Rush Limbaugh is just as partisan and ignorant as MSNBC’s Ed Schultz
Why not join the LP? You can’t fight the state by becoming the state
FRIDAY FUNNIES
Goodbye, Merlin (2003-2022)
Slow death of painful past leaves me trapped in fog of depression
Confirmation bias means most of us assume our opponents are ‘morans’
I don’t like most people in TV ads, but I can’t tell if it’s them or me
At times, we have to just wait for the day when we’ll see the fruit
A reminder to friends of liberty: Others don’t understand our beliefs