I had a moment in life when I decided to give up.
It was the war I thought I could not win; the struggle I thought would not pay off; the line I thought I could not continue drawing. It was only once, my friends, when I spoke to God that if this goes any further than this, I would give up. I will not finish what I started, I will go back to the start line, I will forget everything that have ever happened to me, and I will start over. And I don’t mind. That if this goes beyond what I am through now, I will break. And just right before I really gave up, the Merciful granted me the victory. Suddenly, surprisingly, stunningly, I was a winner of the battle ground.
Rarely, though, very rarely, I decide to give up on something I have decided to take on from the very beginning. It’s just the way I take life. I find reasons, determined, and fight for something. Loosing or winning at the end of the battle isn’t relevant. Because I have the power only to struggle, the ending of a battle, since I have no power whatsoever to decide how that’s going to be, is none of my business.
So I have always decided to do everything I can on things I take on; to see how far I can go; to see how deep I can feel; how bad (or beautiful) things can be. And if on my struggle my encounters fight harder, then I will fight harder too. If my encounters give up or beat me, then I can, at least, face myself and say to her, “You have fought hard,” proudly. That the one who gives up is not me, but they, he, she.
Since I can’t bear regret.
(An afternoon short note)