You will realize it one day. If you blink, you may even miss it. But you will come to understand that the joy of life does not exist in the things we think it does. It does not matter how many possessions we own or how impressive we seem on paper. It does not matter all the hours we devote to becoming better than someone else or all the ways we try to seem more important than another. Because, in the end, we all leave the world for someplace neither you nor I really know. But we leave. And in our wake, it is often not the things we amassed we wish to be remembered for. Instead, it’s how often
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