I can’t stop thinking about all the things we carry around just because we’re too scared to put them down. It’s like we’re hoarders of bad ideas, dead-end projects, and ancient dreams we outgrew years ago. You know what I’m talking about—the things that stopped sparking any joy ages ago, but somehow, we still can’t let them go.
I held onto a project once for three years. Three. It was terrible. Not the project itself—it was fine, I guess. But I hated it. Hated working on it, hated thinking about it, hated the way it loomed over me like some giant, unpaid debt I could never shake. I should have dropped it in year one. I probably should have dropped it before I even started, honestly. But I didn’t. I kept pushing because I told myself quitting would mean I was weak. Or lazy. Or one of those people who “just doesn’t follow through.”
And for what? To prove to myself that I could finish something I hated? To avoid that weird pang of shame that comes from letting go? It’s so stupid when I think about it now. Like what was I even trying to prove? That I could waste my time better than anyone else?
The real kicker, though, was how good it felt when I finally gave up. It was like walking out of a terrible movie halfway through. Sure, you already paid for the ticket, but at some point, you realize sitting there any longer isn’t going to magically make it good.
Quitting isn’t failing. It’s realizing the popcorn isn’t worth it.
We don’t talk about quitting like that, though. We talk about it like it’s this big moral failing. Like if you were just stronger or smarter or more disciplined, you’d be able to stick with it. But sticking with something isn’t inherently a virtue. Sometimes it’s just inertia.
I think about this a lot with old dreams. The ones you chase because they sounded good at some point in your life, and now you’re just running on autopilot. There was a time when I thought I wanted to be this big, impressive, whatever. I couldn’t even tell you what the dream really was because it wasn’t mine. It was this vague idea I picked up somewhere—probably from a movie or a magazine or some TED Talk I only half-listened to. But I chased it for years because I thought, “Well, I’ve already come this far.”
That’s the trap, isn’t it? “I’ve already come this far.” The world’s worst reason to keep doing anything.
You know what nobody tells you about dreams? Sometimes they expire. You outgrow them, or they turn into something else, or you realize they weren’t yours to begin with. That’s not a failure. It’s evolution.
But man, letting go of a dream is hard. There’s this weird guilt, like you’re betraying your past self. But your past self didn’t know everything. They were just guessing. They didn’t know what you know now. They didn’t know how much you’d change, or what you’d want, or who you’d be.
And the truth is, you owe way more to the person you’re becoming than the person you used to be.
I guess what I’m saying is, if something doesn’t fit anymore, it’s okay to let it go. A job, a project, a relationship, a dream—whatever. You’re not a failure for walking away. You’re just making space. For something better, for something real, for whatever comes next.
The best thing I ever quit was this endless need to prove myself. To who, I don’t even know. It’s not like anyone was watching, keeping score. But I spent years hustling and grinding and chasing things that didn’t matter because I thought it’d make me enough. Spoiler: it didn’t. But quitting that? That changed everything.
If you’re holding onto something that isn’t working, maybe this is your sign to let it go. Or maybe it’s not. I don’t know. I’m just some person on the internet writing this at 2 a.m. because I can’t stop thinking about how much better life gets when you quit the right things.
And if you want to hear more about why quitting doesn’t suck as much as you think it does, I made a video about it.
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