THE PUBLIC SHELF
Open in five years
Hi. It's me, five years ago. I'm twenty eight and I just did something terrifying.
I quit. Today, at 4:15, I walked into Linda's office and told her I was leaving, and my voice shook the whole time, and I didn't care. I've been sitting on this bench by the river for an hour since then, shaking a little, writing this.
The job made me small. I want you to remember that, in case you've started to romanticize it. It made me quieter in meetings and louder at home in the worst way. It made me check my email in the bathroom at my own birthday dinner.
I don't know what I'm doing next. That's the scary part. I have savings for four months and a half finished idea and a lot of people who think I've lost my mind.
So here's what I want to know.
Are you still running on Saturday mornings?
Did you and Ben get the dog?
Do you still live in this city?
Are you happy? Not successful. Happy.
If it all fell apart, that's okay. I need you to know I'd still make the same choice today. I'd rather fall on my face doing something that's mine.
Be proud of me. I was brave today.
Me at 28
More letters on the public shelf · Write your own