How will you be remembered long after your death, and does it matter to you?
I am certain that I will not be remembered for my completely burnt-out professional career in computing and information technology, a competitive field that claims short product life cycles and even shorter attention spans. I hardly remember anything that I achieved, and I rather regret investing additional years of study to achieve a postgraduate Master of Science degree that was, in retrospect, inappropriate for the very short-lived and ghastly repetitive nature of employment as a developer. I think that I would not be alone in this estimation.
Hardly anyone knew me (the desk-bound and walled-in me), least of all myself, as I remained as a ghost embittered in mediocrity, callously overlooked by my peers beyond the shadows of my tutelage and parentage. Doubt bore the darker shadow that prevented me from escaping my predicament. Eventually, the unapologetic demands of becoming something unnatural and superhuman, to fit in with societal and parental expectations, took a grave toll on my health. In a manner of speaking, no-one cared about the specific name or cause of the painful adversity that befell my end. I left behind a computer with the memories of my life’s hard work, but it was immediately seized by the salvage party for the market value of its metal parts, and it had its memories erased.