“Eventually, happiness was just a speck on the horizon, way off in the distance.  The closer I got, the farther I had to go.  Turns out that I’d been running as fast as I could in the wrong direction.  Oops.  The stuff wasn’t doing its job; it wasn’t making me happy.  Depression set in when I no longer had time for a life outside of work, laboring eighty hours a week just to pay for the stuff that wasn’t making me happy.  I didn’t have time for anything I wanted to do: no time to write, no time to read, no time to relax, no time for my closest relationships.  I didn’t even have time to have a cup of coffee with a friend, to listen to his stories.  I realized that I didn’t control my time, and thus I didn’t control my own life.  It was a shocking realization.” ~ The Minimalists, Everything That Remains