And I don’t want to be. But that wasn’t always the case. For the longest time, I had hustler envy. Envious of those people who can pull 17, 18 hour days working on their craft. Envious of those who “made it” young. Envious of those who…I don’t know, but shit like this always sound good in threes.
But yeah, I was envious. Now that I’m older, however…actually not even just that I’m older, but also that I’ve taken a step back, really observed these folks as best I can, I’m not so envious anymore, because they don’t seem too happy. A lot of them actually seem depressed as fuck, which leaves me wonderin’, what exactly am I supposed to be hustlin’ for?
When you get right down to it, isn’t happiness the ultimate goal?
As I pursue my dream of making movies, writing books and stuff like that, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t someday want to make box office blockbusters and write New York Times bestsellers. Like I want everybody in the whole world to not just experience my work, but love it. Yet even if that were possible, the idea of doing that at the risk of my own peace of mind and happiness is not a risk I want to take. Yet that’s exactly what the hustle seems like it’s doing to a lot of folks. I don’t know, maybe I’ll get to a chance to interview one of those people one day. Get a first-person account.
In the meantime, I just want my work to reach whoever it’s supposed to reach, however many people that may be…and right now I can’t think of anything more to say, so that’s it for today.
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