You said you were going to change the world.
But did you want the world to change
or did you want to be the one to change it?
You told everyone you would do Something Big.
Not because you yearned for fame, but because
your works would be so momentous that fame would have to follow.
You didn’t want the fame, of course.
How could you? That would be crass.
If you couldn’t be the best at something, you didn’t see the point in doing it.
You had evidence for your uniqueness,
told yourself you’d always be different.
You wanted to lead,
to stand out, be special.
And the prime demand of your ingrained exceptionalism
was to never doubt it.
(With quiet pity for the ambitionless.)
But you grew up.
Learned how small you are —
globally, cosmically, etc.
Your goal became a Happy Life,
a peaceful one,
with narrower scope.
You would have got here sooner
had peers not called you brilliant.
A lesson hard learned:
the unique stand apart,
missing out on connection.
You don’t want to be Great
because Greatness is lonely.
And Great People just people.
Go ahead, meet your heroes;
it makes this pretty clear.
Now your fatalist, pessimist views
let you opt out of the future.
No descendants or legacy
means no responsibility to the next generations.
You convince yourself there’s a bravery in this cowardice.
But you can convince yourself of anything.
Smart enough to argue any side of any issue,
not wise enough to choose.
You justify your abdication,
explain away your dwindling drive.
There are others more deserving.
Their desire is stronger.
They struggled harder.
If their happiness requires Success
and yours doesn’t,
should you yield the floor?
You know following dreams is a selfish pursuit
even when you’re trying to do good.
You’re saying: Look, I matter!
When there’s evidence you don’t.
When you have no way to stop
the cascading disaster
the looming collapse
the brief evolutionary misstep that we call sapience.
Why break your back
to fix the irreparable?
When small-scale change
changes nothing at all.
When it saps any strength
to make systemic progress.
Why plant a flower
when the soil is toxic?
Have you lost track of who you used to be?
Would your past self hate what you’ve become?
Do you care what a teenager thinks?
You found success on your own terms.
And your renouncement of purpose
has proved paradoxically great for your mental wellbeing.
But not sacrificing anything —
is that a way to live?
What’s been accomplished
with realistic dreams?
Do peaceful people make the world better,
or is tranquility just accepting defeat?
What’s good for the soul
might be bad for the species.
But could you know joy
with the world on your shoulders?
Don’t get you wrong,
you’re not giving up
on making a difference,
or wresting meaning from living.
But you can’t help but acknowledge
these dissonant thoughts
that say there’s something
you’ve lost.
You do your best to remember
that while greatness is rewarded
in balance sheets, trophies, and news reports,
goodness is recorded
in the hearts of the people you love.
And you think
just maybe
that’s Enough.
