Never forget why you choose to do something. Apathy is not an option. Every decision we make—to act, to refrain, or to care—shapes who we are and what we bring to the table. Whether it is a hobby, a business venture, or a romantic partnership, anchoring yourself to your "why" is crucial. It is easy to look back and assign meaning to past choices, but making a conscious effort beforehand to define why you are walking a particular path, especially one you are not obligated to walk, is a feat worth discussing.

There is a saying: starting things is easy. As a generalist who enjoys picking up new interests, this resonates deeply with me. For much of my life, I did not consider why I was making certain choices. Part of it stemmed from avoiding things I was not ready to face, but another large part was the allure of apathy. In my youth, not caring was considered cool. I cannot pinpoint when it started, but indifference became a badge of honor, and I wore it proudly. It was trendy to not care, to dismiss consequences, and to overlook the reasons behind others’ hard work. Now, looking back, I am grateful for the shift in my perspective. It is heartening to see people give a damn.

What I did not realize then was that apathy, while appearing effortless, is limiting. It is easy to find passion for things you already love, but discovering passion in your "why" for even the mundane can be transformative. Your reasons do not have to be elaborate—a single "why" can guide many choices. For me, my guiding principle is improving the lives of my wife and kids.

Take tonight, for example. It is 11:30 p.m., and I am rushing to jot down these thoughts before midnight to maintain a daily writing streak. Why? Because I believe that discipline will improve their lives. If I can stay committed to writing, coding, drawing, and streaming—all things I have enjoyed but never stuck with—I can create a better future for my family.

Of course, there is no guarantee that this approach will work. It might fail. But for the first time, I care deeply about the outcome. I do not want to look back with regret, knowing I did not give it everything I had.

Your "why" is the reason you keep going when you do not feel like it. When you are exhausted and have hit your limits, it can be the spark that keeps you moving forward.

For the sake of transparency, I will admit that while my primary "why" is my family, my secondary one is more selfish: I want to make an impact. I want to be remembered for doing something meaningful—not because I crave monuments in my honor (though, to be fair, I would not mind)—but because I want my kids to be proud of me for more than just being a great dad.

This was something apathetic, younger me would not have allowed himself to feel. What if it fails? Imagine the embarrassment. But here is the truth: failure is not trying. Failure is not showing my kids that effort matters, even when success is not guaranteed. A true north star, your reason "why," makes even the risk of failure worthwhile.

Do not lose sight of your "why." Care deeply about it, and let it drive you.