To the artist. In your unending quest for self-expression, you present your innards to the world with the hope that you will find ablution in others' catharsis for your work. Your insecurities put on the line and displayed before the world. Every time, the fear that nobody will understand your creation and by proxy that nobody will understand you. Yet, this is your journey. And so it is a risk that you will take a thousand times again.
To the athlete. Endlessly, sweat pours from your body. Endlessly, tears pour from your soul. You question whether or not you'll be good enough. The answer? No. Because every day, you face an inevitably insurmountable task -- you must be better than your former self. The body aches in new ways every day, but still you push on. Because your body is a temple, and everyday, you will pray for actualization.
To the parent. Your life no longer belongs to you. Your thoughts no longer under your command. You placed an appendage into the world, and now it must thrive. It must be bigger, stronger, better than you. Its failures are your own, and its successes bring you greater joys than you could achieve without. Your life seemingly sacrificed on the altar of legacy, but the nourishment of kinship feeds both ways. Although, you occasionally forget this, you will remember again.
To the innovator. The exhaustion of what already is encumbers your being. Yet the thoughts of what could be lift you nearly to flight. You aren't happy with what is because you know there is more. To build upon your predecessors is your duty. To transform. To enhance. Because you believe betterment is within you awaiting release. To you, it is not your ambition, it is your obligation.
To the artist, to the athlete, to the parent, to the innovator: I understand.