Everything you know and love will wither away and die. Dust.

And despite what your ego tells you, you probably won’t be remembered past the next generation. Even if you have children who have children. Even if you erect a gold-crusted mausoleum to yourself.

That is unless you do something utterly remarkable that changes the world. Which you won’t. Because it’s hard enough making it through every day planning for dinner – much less planning to change the world. Not everyone can be Steve Jobs.

No, you are living inside of a perfumed envelope that will one day turn yellow and get buried in a trunk in the attic of a house that will eventually be razed to the ground to make room for high rise apartments. Life is transitory.

Today is a love letter. Don’t attack it. Embrace it.


Jim Mitchem



Slavery - A Poem
The Long Walk to Spring

Jim Mitchem

Writer. Father to daughters. Husband. Ad man. Raised by wolves. @jmitchem on twitter. First novel, Minor King, out now.