Some days–quiet, do-nothing days–I ponder my future. What does it hold, I wonder? Where will I be in twenty years? Forty? Sixty? What will I have done? What will I have written? Will anyone know my name?
I often question if these thoughts are worth anything? Does it matter if anyone knows my name after I’m gone? Will it matter if people have read my work? I’m one man amongst billions. Why should I rise up and be counted among the great minds and men of our world?
But in the end, I think it does matter. I do want people to remember my name. I want people to know what I’ve done–to have read what I’ve written–because when I think of the names I remember, the acts I know, the things I’ve read, those men and women are ones who did and wrote great things.
Ultimately, it is not in my control. I may do and write great things and they may be entirely ignored by the world. But this won’t stop me from striving toward greatness; I cannot let the potential for ignoration stop me from my purpose. I want to leave an impact on the world–for the better, of course. And if my name is remembered, let it be remembered as an inspiration for those who will come after.