I want to be great again.
With him. I want us to be great.
I no longer care about being great at what we do--after more than a month of 60 plus hour weeks with no end in sight, I'll settle for mere survival.
We're okay. But when you know what it is to be truly mind-blowingly great, "okay" is a poor substitute.
I am not who I was. If you asked our employees, all of them would say they think I sleep at work. Some might even claim that I never existed outside of that place--that I was created in those rooms, and am as much a part of the facility as the walls themselves.
Maybe I am, but I was not. And I want to be great again.
People are the pulse of any facility, and you can feel them as they go about their daily duties.
I am part of the heartbeat which keeps the pulse going, part of the brain which coordinates all of the moving parts, molecules of blood in the veins through which the pulse is felt. Every day, the goal is survival.
Perhaps one day that crazy organism will be great. Perhaps it will not.
With him. I want us to be great. Him and I.