Fixed | Futilestruggles

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In the quaint town of Peculiarville, there lived a man named Balthazar McSnazz. He was a peculiar fellow, known for his hapless endeavors and unrelenting optimism. Balthazar's life was a never-ending series of futile struggles, which he documented in a worn leather journal. FutileStruggles

We fear the word "futile" as if it means "worthless." It doesn't. A futile struggle still shapes your hands. Still teaches your bones what resistance feels like. Still shows you exactly where your hope lives— misplaced, perhaps, but fiercely alive. End of Article

But what if the struggle itself is the problem? Balthazar's life was a never-ending series of futile

The pattern of futile struggles continued. Balthazar tried his hand at painting, producing works that could only be described as "expressionist catastrophes." He attempted to become a musician, but his accordion playing sent neighborhood dogs fleeing in terror. Even his attempts at gardening ended in calamity, with his prized roses turning out to be... well, actually, they just turned out to be weeds.