I most certainly do not have 43 letters written. I probably have about half of that -- if that. But you know what? It's okay. I'm not tearing myself up about it. Life has been crazy this past month.
Realistically speaking, this 100-Day Project might be a failure of pretty epic proportions. I clearly don't have enough discipline to commit to one small habit every day for 100 days. But I've found that the commitment I chose is unique. It requires some real brain power. Writing a personal, individualized letter to a different stranger every day is unbelievably challenging to do -- let alone to do well. And by "well" I mean "to the best of my ability." The letters that I have managed to write have all been pretty lengthy. Trying to reach the heart of someone you've never met before with just pen and paper takes a lot of heart and a lot of thought.
And I think that's why -- apart from just being generally busy -- this project has seemed like a disappointment to me. That's why I haven't been able to churn out letter after letter for the past 43 days. I want to give 110% in every single letter I write, but I can't. My first mistake was having a mindset full of unrealistic expectations.
So yes, I was a little too ambitious. But I'm still going to write letters until the 100 days are up. I can already say there probably won't be 100 letters at the end. There might just be 30. But that would be 30 more letters than there would have been in this world if I hadn't tried at all. If just 30 strangers can pick up letters that have the potential to turn their bad days around or to make their good days even better, then that's all I can ask for. And there's the moral of this story, I guess. Leaving people and the world better than you found them.