1 min read
Why try too hard,
when I can just
eat the ice-cream?
Sit back.
Relax.
Let life pass
softly.
Sweet.
Cold.
Comfortable.
No pressure.
No resistance.
No expectations.
Just moments
that feel good.
But then
a thought interrupts.
Who remembers comfort?
Who writes stories
about ease?
The world
doesn’t pause
for the comfortable.
It forgets them.
Silently.
Completely.
Ice-cream melts.
Pleasure fades.
Moments dissolve
without leaving
a mark.
So I ask again,
is comfort enough?
Or is it
just a distraction?
Because somewhere,
someone is trying
too hard.
Failing.
Struggling.
Pushing
beyond limits.
Not for comfort.
But for meaning.
And meaning
demands effort.
It demands
discomfort.
It demands
sacrifice.
Trying too hard
is not weakness.
It is intention.
It is choosing
to matter.
Even when
it hurts.
Even when
it’s uncertain.
Because the world
may forget many.
But it remembers
those who leave
something behind.
An idea.
A movement.
A shift.
Something
etched
into time.
So yes,
I can eat
the ice-cream.
Enjoy the now.
Taste the moment.
But I cannot
live there.
Not fully.
Because a part of me
wants more.
Wants to build.
Wants to create.
Wants to be remembered.
Not for comfort.
But for contribution.
So I choose both.
Moments of sweetness.
And seasons of struggle.
Because one
keeps me human.
The other
makes me matter.
And somewhere
between the two,
I find a life
worth living
and worth remembering.
