As I sold myself short, they told me this was humility, that it was a virtue, and little by little, I have peddled all of who I am for chump change. My want for goodness has turned into a disaster. It is no longer my concern to prove someone wrong, or right for that matter. I am a nobody; it is for the best. To live life to exhibit my inherent capability is not my concern either. I know the lengths of my ability and the boundary of who I can be today or in the end. My concern is only to live my life with the little good I manage to do out of my own volition and ability. There are no sleepless nights; it will all be easy now. That is my promise to myself. If this is humility, I want none of it. I have played a willing fool for long enough; if this is the sin of pride, I am ready to be prideful. If all the world is a reflection of who we are, then I have spilt gross underestimation into it. In times with a significant dearth of goodness, some people are expected to carry it all like Atlas did. But Atlas was a titan. We are no such thing. Not yet.
All this, of course, is mere fantasy, a soliloquy to lighten the soul, or at best, wishful thinking. There will always be people so soft that they cut like butter. The world will always focus only on the softness. Only much later will someone realise the cutting still happens. Sometimes, the realisation never occurs at all. Whether it occurs or not has no say in the matter of softness. Some of us were destined to lend Atlas a hand now and then, and if that was not the case, we still had a choice in the matter. Goodness, after all, is not just virtue. Goodness is a balance. It is a tightrope one must walk until they reach the other end, and realising there is nothing there, they must walk backwards. They must do this over and over until they learn it’s the walk that goodness is about. And like you cannot rest on a tightrope lest you fall, there is no rest for the good. But even those who overflow with this urge to keep walking must get some rest now and then, close the door, and get a good night’s sleep. Even Atlas was punished into lifting the heavens; no one has once seen him smile.