Sometime I just have this feeling like I’m a hopeless turtle.
I sort of want to stop the slow lumbering pace at which my progress tends to be made… and just tuck my soft parts inside of my shell, and just write off the rest of the world. Just sort of happily exist in my own little isolated home.
There’s a point when the race seems so far off… that hope of ever standing a normal chance seems so remote as to be completely out of view.
And yes, I know that the turtle eventually wins the race slow and steady… but you gotta admit that the hare had a much more pleasant and effortless trip.
And some days… I’m just not really convinced that the race is even worth a fraction of the amount of effort it takes.
I feel like I just need to find a cool spot in the shade in the grass somewhere… and snap my little flap down.. and accept that racing is something at which I will always suck.