And suddenly I've come to realize that my life doesn't actually matter in the large scheme of things.
I pity this world.
It tears apart the good and shoves the aspiring into boxes of conformity from which they shall never rise.
All those creative must appeal to the people and not to themselves.
The misunderstood tend to be the most miraculous.
An artist, for example, could live their whole life poor and unwanted.
When they die, their work is suddenly valuable.
So I've come to realize that our lives don't actually matter in the large scheme of things, it's what we leave behind that counts.
Doing something well and not getting credit isn't worth nothing, it's worth everything.
A painful realization.