Colby was born a donkey, but he never made peace with it. All around him, the horses lived a life he could only dream about — brushed until they shone, fed the best grains, sleeping on beds of golden straw.
Colby spent his days slogging through mud, hauling heavy loads, and his nights curled up on the bare ground, nursing his aching back. Every evening, he’d look over at the horses resting easy and think,
“If only I were one of them… maybe I’d matter too.“
One day, Colby decided he was done being a donkey. He quit pulling carts. He pranced instead of trudging. He tried to neigh instead of bray. He kept himself spotless, avoiding the puddles he used to wade through without a second thought.
“Act like a horse,” he thought, “and the world will treat you like one.“
But the horses saw him and laughed.
“You can clean your coat and lift your nose all you like,” they sneered, “but you’ll always just be a donkey.“
Colby didn’t listen. He was sure the farmer would see how much he had changed.
The farmer did notice — but not in the way Colby hoped. No longer useful, Colby was left alone. No work. No food. No care. At first, Colby thought he had finally won the life he wanted — no burdens, no labor. But pride doesn’t fill an empty belly. And idleness doesn’t warm cold bones.
Starving, Colby approached the horses, hoping for a scrap of their abundance. They turned away.
“You’re not one of us,” they said.
Desperate, he returned to his old pen — only to find another donkey working hard, taking the place he had abandoned. Colby tried to help, but weakness had stolen his strength.
He wasn’t a worker anymore. He wasn’t a horse. He was… forgotten.
When the farmer finally came with a rope, Colby could barely lift his head.
“I can’t afford mouths that don’t work,” the farmer muttered.
Colby tried to cry out, tried to say, “I’ll work! I’ll carry! I’ll be who I was meant to be!“
But it was too late.
Moral of the story:
There’s a kind of death that comes long before the heart stops beating. It’s when we trade our true selves for an illusion. Colby didn’t fail because he was a donkey. He failed because he abandoned the quiet strength that had always made him worthy.
Envy can make us blind to the value of our own path. Don’t lose yourself trying to become someone the world never meant you to be.
“But what made you choose Quebec over British Columbia, Alberta, or anywhere else in Canada?”…
I’ve never been one to plant a flag and defend it to the bitter end…
If life came with an instruction manual, most of us would lose it somewhere between…
When I grew up, gas was cheap enough that nobody treated a Sunday drive like…
There’s something about a move that makes you take stock of your life in a…
There’s a strange kind of fear that shows up right before you begin something new,…