Dear world, here’s my resignation letter. I quit.

No, I don’t quit the act of living. Far from it actually. Instead, I quit the game of life. The game that lures us so enticingly to play. It’s the accomplishments game. It’s the advancement game. It’s the promotion game. It’s the wealth game. It’s the look at me game. It’s the more more more game. It’s the never enough game. It’s the social media highlight reel game. It’s the game that keeps the vast majority of us in the developed world wanting more and being grateful less. It’s the game that keeps us perpetually…unhappy.

This isn’t a two-weeks notice either. This is today, the end. You’ll have to find a replacement for tomorrow’s game. You’ll have plenty of options to choose from. I’ve played your game for too long, and it’s here that we part ways. Your way, continuing to lure restless hearts to pursue your empty promises. And my way, playing a new game entirely against myself. Two very different games that don’t mix. Like oil and water, we simply can’t play together any longer.

My new game is a game where I pursue improvement compared to myself and no one else. It’s a game where I dictate the levels, goals, and rules. It’s a game where I choose gratitude and happiness over ungratefulness and discontent. It’s a game where I put my phone down and pick my daughter up. It’s a game where I write more and worry less. It’s a game where I work with my head down but my chin up. It’s a game with a single contestant. Me.

As Howard Thurman so poetically stated,

Don’t ask what the world needs. Ask what makes you come alive, and go do it. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive.

Steven Pressfield calls this turning pro.

James Altucher calls this choosing yourself.

Howard Thurman called this coming alive.

I call this quitting.

Quitting the game the world wants me to play, and instead truly living. Join me?

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