In the excuses to misery, one idea takes all glory: Don’t give up.
Fake masculinity’s deep tissue massage has you believing what you lack in self-esteem you can compensate through the inexhaustible delusion you insist on calling self-awareness.
For every tough titty tale of perseverance, there’s the quiet acceptance of rejection and going on to what you wanted to, anyway. This is still perseverance, but from a place of letting go, from a place of knowing yourself.
Pain is the most popular category in self-improvement porn. It’s why we have a hard-on for ideas like not giving up or not taking No for an answer. And it’s how we end up doing a lot of things we hate doing.
We underestimate the luck that follows not giving up and overestimate what follows letting go. Our belief in ourselves has become a function of how many people believe in us, instead of how much we like doing what we do.
You are always giving up something. Someone. And it’s always too early. Too Late. Anyone whose barf of wisdom is, keep trying needs to try to not say anything when they have nothing useful to say.
(If you want to know how full of shit someone is, ask them for advice.)
Not giving up can become a toxic rationalization. It’s why the swamp is full of techniques—how to get past No, how to get to Yes, essentially how to be a creep without coming off as one.
Giving up and not is about time. Because regret’s about time. And, in the limited timeline of your infinite expansion, knowing why you shouldn’t leave is how you know when to leave.
Don’t leave because of them. They are everywhere.
Don’t leave because you are scared. Love’s frightening.
Don’t leave because things got boring. Your dick’s not your North Star.
Don’t leave because you didn’t ask. Asking is how you find out who you are.
Don’t leave because being there is not worth it. You wouldn’t be here if it weren’t.
Leave when fear replaces love.
Leave when there’s no laughter left.
Leave when you have forgotten who you are.
Leave when you can’t forgive yourself for staying.
Leave when coming back feels more painful than leaving.
You are not everything you are holding on to.
You are everything you have let go of.
Giving up is grace.