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.

Dear FBI, NSA and all three-letter agencies: ‘We don’t trust you guys’
Here’s proof (if you need more) that people want something for nothing
Son’s prayer for dying mother awakened emotion for NYC doc
Could Hillary Clinton be the next president of the United States?
A broken heart is devastating, but closing yourself to love is worse
World has become a freak show, but we’re not supposed to notice
FRIDAY FUNNIES