Was It Worth It?

The room was dark, with the only light coming from a poorly lit monitor. The computer made a soft humming sound to a silent room. A woman sat at a desk fighting. Her hand could not force her finger down. Tears slowly welled in her eyes because her finger refused to come down. An email of resignation filled the monitor. It was dated over a nine months ago, yet her finger would not come down. Behind that email were various windows of code and writing. Her mind’s work splayed across the screen in layers upon layers. Melodies sung through programs that worked flawlessly. Emotions sprung through documentation. Attempt after attempt to write something that meant anything lay behind the email. Unfortunately, that was all they were: attempts. It had taken her this long to learn that at the end of the day, no one gave a damn how beautiful your documentation was. Rich idiots didn’t care how your algorithm made them money. All this work was for nothing. At least to her it was for nothing.

Scratch that, it was worse. This work wasn’t for nothing, this work was for everything she hated. It was like relentlessly climbing a cliff on the wrong mountain. Each step feels good, each foothold feels right, but when you’ve finally scaled the boulder there’s nothing to see at the top. No reward, no landscape, no sun. An empty void greets what should have been a wildly successful hike. Fresh air never tasted so bitter. Yet when you look back it is easy to see how high up you are. Jumping back down would be dangerous. Worse, it might be suicidal. Throwing away all that was gained would be considered irresponsible, inappropriate, a waste of talent. For some reason everyone was pushing her up that cliff as if there was a beautiful set of mountains with an unbelievable lake reflecting the rays of a full moon. Why couldn’t she see the same thing?

She wasn’t sure if it was right to start heading back down. When she had started the journey it had seemed like such a good idea, but now she wasn’t sure. The views weren’t grand, and the work was grueling. Air was thinning and there wasn’t a reason to stay up on a mountain without a view.

Wiping the tears out of her eyes revealed the monitor’s blue light. The cursor lay over a button labeled “Send”. It happened again. Her mind flew off to the future: send your regrets - send your excuses - throw away your support. Look at what I gave you, how could you possibly be so disrespectful? She knew what their reactions would be like. She was ungrateful for the opportunity.

An opportunity that made her unhappy. Slowly her hand moved the mouse, the cursor floated towards the red “x” at the top of the screen. Closing the email, she continued to breath shallow. Just one more year, then she would send it.