I know what kind of legacy I want to leave in the world.
I’ve always known, fundamentally. And the more I have learned of the world, the more passionately I have felt the draw to make a positive impact…and the more beaten down and defeated I have become.
While maybe I don’t know exactly how to make the difference, I DO know that it probably doesn’t start in the pages of my introductory physics textbook.
My potential— not my intelligence, or competence, or strength— but my potential, my drive, is being used sweating over physics problems on a laptop screen. Yet every hour, every day we spend hunched over tiny desks filling in rows of printed circles, people are dying.
Forests are falling.
Rivers are burning.
Animals are wasting away.
And yet, before I can do anything about it, I am supposed to spend my nights stressing over a chemistry textbook, because it has been made clear to me that the ability to make a difference isn’t limited by passion.
The power, the privilege to make a difference is tied up in credentials and economics and authority.
I can’t believe that this the human spirit. This isn’t compassion. This doesn’t do my…This doesn’t do our potential justice.
And my collapse into a weeping C+ student is not a reflection of my intelligence, or strength, or resolve. It’s a reflection of the internal battle I fight every day to sacrifice today’s potential for the hope of a brighter tomorrow.
Try to swallow while you’re still young
That your dick’s too short to fuck the world
WHEN I GET HIGHLY STRESSED
I REALLY JUST WANT TO CURL UP AND SLEEP
WHICH IS REALLY COUNTERPRODUCTIVE TO WHAT ACTUALLY NEEDS TO BE ACCOMPLISHED