What really matters
Sometimes when I look at the big picture of life, I realize that all of the tiny, trivial, miniscule things that cause me stress really don't matter at all.
You know, things like fuming because I'm stuck in traffic behind a bus, wondering if the outfit I'm wearing makes me look fat, getting upset over what others are doing and wishing there was more money.
All that will matter when I die is whether I was a good person to those around me. I hope I have been so far, but I fear I have not.
Maybe I should start changing that.