But then I read this, by David Eggers (from How the Water Feels to Fishes)
The Fights Not Fought
She could not remember where she ate dinner the night before, or whom she had met last week in that walnut-paneled room. She could not recall the names of the streets where she once lived, or the date of her own father's birthday. But she could remember the fights she did not fight. There were so many, and they haunted her with a stabbing, shaming pain. People had told her to choose her battles, and she had chosen some, and neglected others, and now the neglected came to her like an army of lost children. She should have chosen them all, she thought to herself, as she buried another friend. She should have chosen every one.
I think I have mentioned this before, but the last 6 months or so have been a little strange...full of reminders of the brevity of life. These events have really made me re-evaluate my actions, my attitude towards this crazy life. They have also brought to my mind the fights I didn't fight, and made me think of impending fights that should be battled. These are the fights that could end in something beautiful, something fantastic. They could also end in great explosions and failure.
But if I never take up the fight, how will I know which are those that end in the fantastic?
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