The Fighter in Me

I’ve been a waste of space lately. Let’s be honest; this isn’t an overstatement. A piece of shit. My demons have gotten me really down and I’ve been a lazy leech just feeding on nothingness.

I got down and I stayed down, figured “hey, I’ll just bury my head in the ground for a few decades, no big deal” because I just couldn’t take this life so I just tried my best to ignore the fact that I exist. I was having an existential crisis and I just couldn’t be bothered to actually deal with it or with any of the storm’s bullshit so I just looked away.

However, yesterday (which is now two days ago) as I got out of the bus (I took the wrong one) and walked (while texting my anxiety away, narrating my stupidity to my bff) in a haste (I was late) to my therapist’s office (what a pretty messy morning, I swear), I heard a tiny *click* coming from the back of my head. As I raised my eyebrows and my eyes grew to be the size of the moon, I realized something.

Somehow all this early morning anxiety and lack of sleep had managed to trigger the right switch and unlocked a tiny little door from which came a revelation. I didn’t have much time to actually even begin to touch it with the tip of a finger that day because I was so tired. When I got back home, just slipped on my good ol’ depressed pants and trustworthy “what’s the point” shirt and faded to black once more.

But today; I mean, yesterday (what is time, I ask, what is TIME), I was getting really excited about going outside to explore a nearby place which I pass by when I take (the right) bus to see my therapist (who’s actually a nurse??). So, as I waited for the sun to just stop being so sunny so I could step out and do the adventure thing without burning to my death, I actually had time to let the revelation sink in. And just as I was ready to walk out the door, I had to jump on a piece of paper and pen to scribble all the words that just rained on me as it suddenly hit me and I saw it.

I saw the fighter in me.

I’ve been hiding, running away and just bathing in denial, forcing myself to ignore pretty much all that there is to life. I had completely given up on trying and was looking very seriously into giving up on everything and settling for a life into the nothingness. And yet, even as I, on the surface, was giving up, it was here in me and still doing its job. The fighter in me, that part that just doesn’t know how to give up and always fights for my life, even when I feel that I’ve indeed given up.

When I sat at my desk that morning the day following the *click*, I realized that, even though if not as intensely as I was supposed to, I indeed thought about those things that I was trying so hard not to think about while I was “wasting my days away”.

I was convinced that I had managed to give up for once and that I truly was on my way to that impossible reality where I don’t bother nor believe in dreams, light and a greater use of my time on beautiful Mother Earth. I truly thought that I had manage to kill all the light left inside of me and to be honest, I was actually happy about it. Because, let’s face it, this whole existence and fighting against the current to do things that you love and be a bigger “you” it’s just so exhausting and frustrating; so, managing to give up was actually a relief.

Now I wouldn’t have to worry about energy. I could be tired all the time and it wouldn’t matter because nothing would matter anymore. I could just bathe in darkness all year long and just lie on the floor, wait for the lightning to strike me and put an end to the joke. Nothing mattered. I had succeeded in taking away all of the anxiety triggers, all the problems, all the overthinking, all the horribly demanding efforts to go against the storm to do all those things and also all the good stuff like love and vegetables.

I don’t wanna be a musician, an artist with four arms that do all these different things and doesn’t suck at them. I want to be a mashed potato without seasoning and extra extra extra cheese and a nice side dish of “nope; I don’t life”.


Turns out that I was right when I thought that it was truly impossible for me to give up and that time I said that even when I was giving up, I wasn’t. I just didn’t know HOW RIGHT I was.

I tried my best to keep my mind busy and not think about real questions and about me. I managed to satisfy the apathetic monster inside, feed him all the junk it wanted and become it BUT in the mean time, I also managed to keep fighting in the right direction in a way! Of course, it wasn’t a super effective fighting as there was so little of me involved in the war which is why the *click* took so long to happen. But it was still fighting.

I fed the monster and let it invade the foreground so that I could find a place inside where it was calm, oh so calm, and I could actually think of my life without any parasite.

My choice of distraction could have actually given it away that I was truly just finding a less direct and brutal way to face those questions. And it did. But just after the *click*. I realized that the things I was obsessing over in order not to deal with an overwhelming life, decisions to be made and that crazy wish of living life were, deep down, helping me think exactly about what I was running from.

The fighter in me, the part of me, the spark, that will never stop fighting against the coldest winds that assault me or that I will willingly let in to freeze my soul. That part that, even when reduced to such a tiny size and beaten up, can still stand up for me and what I believe in and resurface, always, and shush the monsters back to their dark corners. (For a while at least, just enough time for the soldiers to get back to their positions and protect that fragile soul)

Now, I haven’t completely gotten rid of the filth that I smeared all over my weak flesh prison. But I’ve been feeling that spark and it’s slowly melting the grime away and bringing some heat back in the main circuits. The fighter is swimming back up. Ha ha! And well, now my laughs don’t just sound like a sound that I send to bounce against the walls and fill up the room with some “nothing wrong here” vibes. I feel less dead. And ready to put myself back on track again.

“You live and then you die, what’s the point anyways, right?” That just doesn’t sound like me. Now, I don’t know if it’s depression or any other part of the storm and I don’t care. I know it’s not me. I don’t think this truly. I’m a stupid child and I believe that there’s more to life than slowly dying as oxygen poisons us. I believe in love and in making dreams come true. And I believe in light in the darkest places. And I BELIEVE.

I might be a fatalist to some extent but I’m what I like to think of as an absurdity, a convention of paradoxes. I always find myself at both extremes at the same time. I’m a fatalist but also an optimistic and a pessimistic and a believer and a skeptic son of a blurp. I’m everything and nothing. But I’m not a person that gives up or one that doesn’t see the magic and beauty in life and beyond.

And now that I’ve slapped myself in the face several times and am slowly waking up from a dead man’s sleep, I can see it again. These words that I spoke, thought, while I was this unseasoned mashed potato (Ha ha, I’m sorry x) I’m almost done, bear with me! :-p ) weren’t mine. I don’t know which demon spoke them but they weren’t mine.

The fighter in me is a real part of me. Those demons and the storm are also a part of me but they don’t define me. They are not me. They are what I believe to be essential parts of the weather in me, the rain that rocks me in bed and make rainbows possible. (You need ups and you need downs, light and darkness; there needs to be a balance in things, this isn’t a happy fairyland where all is well.)

They are parasites but I need them and I cling to them. I need them here but they aren’t part of my identity, they are just these little dark monsters that keep this universe running.  But I am not by any means them. I am not the embodiment of my disorders and, as much as they affect my everyday life and constantly torture me, they are not part of my identity. I consider them parts of me in a way, part of my universe but not me.

Anyways. It’s going to take me a few days to truly get back on my feet and get rid of the bullshit I’m covered in. But I’m getting back up and that’s what matters in the end. I think I actually really needed this time on the floor and horribly dark fake happy days! It’s funny I guess in a way haha

So, I think that’s it. I’m glad I finally managed to get all these thoughts out of my head! I started writing this at 1AM today (which explains the confusion with time at the start of it! 😉 ) and now it’s 6PM. No, I wasn’t writing all this time! I slept and I’m still having very slow days. Recovery is a process and honestly, I was really on the floor so it takes some time to get back up and this time longer than what I’m used to. But yeah, I’m finally done getting it out of my chest and I can actually even more internalize the information now. It feels great.

I’ll end this post on a quote from Fran Bow ( a video game I obsessed over during my little “holiday”, let’s call it this from now on!). I don’t remember which character said it but I’m pretty sure it came from the journal that she found somewhere Idk. I think it’s really fitting with this post and well, off I go fixing myself up!

I don’t need to hide from pain anymore because it’s part of me.

Love is everywhere and in everything.

I enjoy crying.

I enjoy laughing.

I enjoy being alive.

Until next post, don’t lose yourself and keep looking for the light. It’s always there. Even the tiniest spark is enough to keep you going. There’s always light, somewhere, look around, in someone, in something, in the sky, anywhere, anyone, anything. And if you don’t see any light, then maybe think about opening your eyes? Maybe you don’t see because you’re not looking at it the right way. Or maybe you are the light and it’s hard to see yourself shining as you stand in the dark.

Keep running. ❤

P.S.: I, of course, still haven’t re-organized my blog and the categories are still pretty messy. But I’ll get to it eventually, don’t worry! And also, the little walk I had in the “park” that I discovered near where I’m staying was truly refreshing. There were so many ducks and I found two cats that let me pet them and aw, man, I felt really good out there! And I’m planning on going there again, maybe making a point of going every Sunday or so. 😀

worry flood

None of my worries is the least of my worries.

All my worries are on the top shelf and constantly flooding my mind.

I’m replaying everything in my head all the time.

From the tiniest detail, like that time I knocked over two plates of colored beads in kindergarten and had to stay during recess to clean up my mess.

To really heavier ones, like that time I made my mother cry.

In fact, when I say “tiniest detail”, I don’t mean it from my point of view. I mean it from most people’s, I guess. For me, all of these are as big as the other though I can make the difference between bigger ones.

They’re replaying in my mind most of the day. All the while I’m busy worrying about now and what’s next; what once was is always there, what happened haunts me all day long.

Sometimes not and I feel lightweight and I feel like I can go on and be reckless again and feel fine.

But then it comes again, at any random fucking hour of the day and it doesn’t stop. Not until I’ve collapsed under the weight of how my teacher called me out for daydreaming back when I was 7.

Everything sticks with me forever and I can’t just scrap it like a gum on the sole of my shoe. The darkness haunts me forever. I have all these creepy bugs with their small legs carefully buried in my scalp and there doesn’t go a day they aren’t hungry for some brain goo.

And when my mind obsesses over something good, how does that turn out, you ask? Well, it eventually figures out a way to darken the scene and have the prettiest flowers smell like rotten meat.

I hope I’m not my only friend because it seems I don’t want me to be happy. And fighting against myself sometimes just seem so pointless. I’m all I have, so why should I wage war upon me?

This endless worry flood has me sailing away on a self-destructive path. And I go with the flow.

All this dead water that infiltrates my lungs has such a bittersweet taste that I can’t even begin to think of letting go of.

This familiar taste, I could fight till the end.

But maybe I don’t want to win.

Maybe I just want it to flood me, just like that, and drown.

Because there is nothing sweeter than defeat and surrender to the storm.

I tried to work on Uncage’s next chapter tonight but I just couldn’t do it. My mind was too busy. And, look what I managed to vomit onto my keyboard. Isn’t it wonderful? Thoughts, thoughts, thoughts. Images. Words.

Pain is a color and I’m a rainbow.

Darkness isn’t necessarily black. It is not colors that I lack but a darker shade of black; or maybe a bottle of Jack; or stronger bones in my back…

I wanted to make this a poem but it seems the shaking in my mind cannot handle structured writing, so I will have to let it be whatever it decides to be. I will let my fingers type these confused thoughts of mine and stain my white keyboard with the poisonned ink that leaks through my broken nails. Ain’t that just the way it always goes anyways? I am nothing more than the puppet of my own thoughts.

I’ve been thinking about darkness, as in the spots that cover my heart and soul; the pain, the silent wounds, the invisible scars, the bright crevasses. And again, my brain has sewed another fancy disguise for my bleeding soul from the tasteless word-stew that simmers forever in the back of my mouth. Because this blood never lingers on my flesh and shimmers better than when I hum these word-stuffed melodies. I can watch it dance and rejoice as I praise it with my dark poetry, the only music I can create.

Darkness isn’t necessarily black. I can tell because when I look inside, I can see the colorful polka dots adorning my soul.

My best friend used to call me her rainbow, I have lost track of her reason why, but today I have found my own. If I’m a rainbow, pain is a color and my thoughts are artists. And, of course, I’m holding the bigger brush and when I’m not poking my eyes with it, I paint the biggest patches of colors and take care of any needed touch-ups.

My heart is the color of the sky, a blue that gets deeper at night when my soul is an ocean where demons can’t drown.

My hands are the color of fire, a red that gets deeper when I wrap them around my neck tight enough to shut me up.

And my green-tinted smiles they’re here to hide my rotten faith and hopes.

My head is a mess right now. I was already dealing with the storm’s unexpected come-back and now I have all these doubts and whatnots coming uninvited to the party. The place is too crowded, it’s hard to breathe and I’m losing sleep again, and weight, and strength, and hope, and faith. But, believe it or not, I somehow am in better shape than usual. I mean, I’m a mess and this is very heavy to carry around. But I still feel like I’m handling it better than ever before. But maybe that’s just another illusion.

I’m glad I got that out. I had these few lines lying around for a while now and I just had to get them out. They’ll remain here for now. Maybe they will later find home in a poem or a song, if I ever birth one of these again.

And let me just add that, as much as this sounds dramatic, too dark or whatever you wanna call it, I’m a very positive person. Don’t get me wrong, I ooze darkness and cold coffee; but I still shine, even when I shine dark. I might even be the most optimistic person I’ve met so far. I mean, if you trim all the excessive use of words, the dark tone and all the dramatic poetry, there’s light here! Not because I admit and often emphasize the ugly and darkness of certain things (mostly me) doesn’t mean I don’t see the beautiful. I actually, sadly(there it is again!…), see it everywhere.

I don’t like being called a pessimistic or a fatalist or whatever things you people can come up with, because I’m not. I see the light and the beauty in places you would never even think of looking, and I don’t give up even when I do; so shut up with your labels that don’t even fit. And to quote that Paramore song, “For a Pessimistic, I’m Pretty Optimistic“.

Cherish your pets while you have them and water your plants. ❤

My friend, Misery.

Yesterday, I had a rough morning which involved two and a half hours of sleep, caffeine, pink clouds, tears, heavy breathing, one hour and a half of being stuck to a bench, paralysis and strangers’ voices. Ol’ Insomnia has knocked on my door once again and in all my loneliness, I let her in, hoping she would help distract me. Of course, she ran in and, first things first, kicked Rest out of my bed so she would be the one to hold me all night long.

I know that anxiety don’t mix well with sleep deprivation nor coffee. But what am I supposed to do when my brain won’t shut up at night and I end up having three to four hours of sleep on a good day? I need that coffee to help me walk to the university to attend classes that I actually won’t attend fully if at all (I’ll let you guess which has been the most common scenario lately…). And as much as I know how bad an idea it is, I’ll do it because I’m exhausted from all the previous anxiety waves and also obviously from the lack of sleep inflicted by revived insomnia. But these two elements added together will only make me weaker, both physically and mentally, and therefore more prone to anxiety fits & co.

Then, no matter what I’ll try, be it breathing exercises, rational thinking (say what?), counting to ten and whatnot, it’ll happen. It’ll happen again and I’ll be trapped; trapped inside a bag of flesh and bones that cannot move anymore unless it is to shake; trapped within a mind that is pretty mad at me at that moment and doesn’t value me, only wishes to beat me up and bury me.

When I feel my toes again and when I manage to unglue my arms/hands to my face and look up enough to see it, I’ll slowly move towards the closest exit. My feet will then engage in autopilot and I’ll walk endlessly until the tears dry and my body cools down. Then I’ll somehow manage to drag the empty shell that I have suddenly become to my room with next to no energy. And I’ll be drained for the day, unable to do much at all. And I’ll try to sleep but it just won’t work because, no matter how tired, I still drank a cup of coffee when I woke this morning and that was barely two hours ago so the caffeine hasn’t left my worn out veins. So I’ll lie down on my bed or most likely the floor for a few hours, lifeless, emotionless; drained.

I’m stuck in an endless sea of vicious cycles. Each time I get out of one, I end up in another one and so on until it’s back to square one.

So tell me, what’s the use of trying if it never changes?

This is all my fault. All of these horrible struggles I go through everyday are in my head. It’s my design, I create them. And if I can’t stop them, pause them or tame them, who the fuck can? Nobody else should actually. This is my mess, my burden, my gift to myself. Happy birthday to me

I’m just so tired of it all. I keep trying and trying, sure, sometimes less than others, but I still do to some extent. And I keep failing one way or another. It always ends up burying me and I lose myself under this big pile of bullshit. All the trying does is wear me out. I’ll push the boulder up the hill, as far as I can depending on what strength the previous day has left me and what little more the present one gave me. I’ll push it everyday just to be crushed over and over as it rolls back down and I’m left to start over. Maybe I’d have moved half a millimeter away from my original position, but what is that compared to torment I had to live through to get there. It may feel like a lot but in reality, I barely would have moved, and I can’t be fooled anymore. It’s all so ridiculous and I feel like a madman going up that hill over and over (no offense, Sisyphus 😉 ).

But you know why I keep trying? Because there’s a sweet aftertaste to misery’s sourness, and I like it as much as I hate it. It’s been part of my life for a while now and it’s the one thing that never changes, never leaves and always will come back. In all this mayhem, all this going back and forth from light to darkness, my demons are the stability that, funny enough, keep me from falling apart as they tear me apart. People leave one way or another, but my demons they never leave. The storm gets old and then new again but it’s never gone.

Oh, as I’m at loss for words after typing all these thoughts, I’ll end this post with a Garbage song which is in fact really in relation with that post. There you go:

And FYI, Metallica did a cover of that song and, well, it rocks too! ❤

I like raw


I’m supposed to be working on several things to try and save what can still be saved of this semester, so it’s only natural that my keyboard and shirt are both covered in charcoal. 😛

I’ve been “at it” for three days now and I still haven’t actually started the damn essay. I also have to study for a whole bunch of tests but I’d like to pretend I don’t have to for now please  Really hard to focus, for a change, but the good thing is that I’m feeling better and I’ve managed to do something I like! Sure, it was mostly fueled by the frustration of having to do something I literally have zero interest in doing but that’s still something!

I love Winnie the Pooh. I always have and I ALWAYS WILL! Nothing can replace this bear and his friends in my heart. They can cheer me up like even my favorite bands and ice cream can’t! Right now, I have at least 10 things in my room that have Winnie or the full team on. And back home, in Reunion Island, my bedroom walls are probably still covered in Winnie the Pooh special birthday paper plates (fyi, I didn’t do that, my mom did but I love it :-p !). Anyways so, when I grabbed my sketchbook and charcoal sticks without thinking, the first thing I saw was Winnie having a picnic with Tigger and Piglet and so I drew.

I’m really happy with the result, really. It was a bit rushed and I was trying to remember what I had read a month ago about ways to use charcoal. I’m still very new to it but I think that’s really great. It doesn’t look like a finished product but I don’t mind it. I’m learning to let go, move on. I can be quite a perfectionnist sometimes (Oh, don’t you mean ALWAYS?!) and it’s not always necessary. Sometimes, it’s okay to just leave a first draft like that and move on to something else. I’m learning to be okay with not having to finish something for it to a finished product.

Meaning and beauty can still be found there. And sometimes actually, with being so desperate for a finished, smooth, complete “product”, you end up taking away these two crucial elements. How many times have I butchered what was a really interesting project because I kept feeling that need to smooth out the edges, work more on that color, add a little more details?! I sincerely can’t count them. I’m not saying that it always is bad to do that. What I’m saying is that I need to learn to know when to stop working on a piece and move to the next.

Art doesn’t have to be perfect. And neither do I.

I still have to write that damn essay though… :-/ Wish me luck!

And be brave out there, strive for that imperfect perfection. Keep it raw; embrace the flaws! ❤

P.S.: did I mention that I’m a bit sick? Makes it harder to wanna write that essay 😦 Here’s an awesome quote from an amazing artist to end this post on a brighter note:

Stay beautiful, keep it ugly.

-Gerard Way

Tomorrow is nearly yesterday.

There used to be a hope for a better tomorrow.

“This day may be the worst so far, but the next one is another opportunity and a whole new set of 24s to seize.”

“Tomorrow we’ll make everything right again.”

“Tomorrow the cold reality will have gained a few more degrees.”

“Tomorrow I will try again.”

“Tomorrow might be THE day.”

No more.

Maybe tomorrow’s are outdated.

Tomorrow is already today and nearly yesterday.

Time run faster than the wind and we all change color and fall like the leaves.

I feel my tomorrows slip through my cold fingers as they intertwine with my todays and become my yesterdays.

Now is the only Time.

ti tnaw t’nod I ebyam tuB

“Tomorrow Is Nearly Yesterday And Everyday Is Stupid” is the title of Crywank’s 2013 album. I came across this band a while back and the first half of the title’s stuck with me ever since.So, yeah I just wrote this.

Land ho!, a tale of blisters, light and hope

What a week I had! I think that it makes up for all the times I traded a work out session for some (as in ‘a whole damn lot of‘) Ben & Jerry’s. 😉

My friend and I had to leave the house we lived in for the past year so we could save more money to visit our parents on Xmas and also travel a bit. So, we got ourselves a small flat close to the university (in a dormitory). It’s really nice and the rooms here are bigger than in most dormitories. A little bit more expensive than a tinier one, obviously, but worth it. We’re like a few steps away from college and won’t have to worry about burning all our money on subway tickets!

As two very lame non-driver students, we had to move all our things by foot and with the help of the subway (thank God for that!). Safe to say it was very exhausting! Especially with the fact that the sun was out all week. I swear, ALL damn week long! We’ve had a few cloudy days the previous week but this week, we had next to no cloud in the sky and a very strong sun lighting our path. Awesome! x)

I’m not very sure of the numbers but I’ll try to give you an idea. Usually, we’d take 5 to 10 minutes to walk from the house to the metro station and 10 to 15 minutes from the other station to the dormitory. With the bags, it took twice as long and sometimes more as we had to take more breaks as we got more tired with each trip and with the sun. Eventually, it took us from one hour to one hour and a half to make a round-trip. From Monday, 5PM to yesterday 6PM, I think we made a round 16 round trips (maybe more).

One awesome thing though is that after we were done with the light paperwork and returning our keys to the landlord, he drove us near the dormitory. Our legs were delighted! 😀

So, it was a very long week which drained us quickly. We were already breaking on Wednesday. Ha ha!

Yesterday was really the hardest of all days. Our bodies were reaching the limit and I could barely walk in a straight line. But it’s over now and we got to rest. Last night, we had a nice dinner in a perfect little Asian restaurant. I also had the best night sleep in a while on a real damn mattress (after a year on inflatable mattresses or blankets simply laid on a wooden floor)! Weirdly enough, I feel really great today. 😀

So, on this sunny Saturday morning, I wanted to share with you a little something that this week has told me. Well, maybe not exactly told me, more like reminded me.

I believe it was on Tuesday when it crossed my mind. We were walking, and gasping for air under the sun in the parking lot, which is a nice bunch of feet from the dorm. We made a little stop under a tree’s shadow to take a little breather and also some time to whine about how tired we already were and how we couldn’t possibly move everything on time before Friday, 5PM. Then it hit me like it hadn’t in a while.

The ultimate jolt of energy.

It is that feeling that comes out of nowhere when you’re doing something really hard/exhausting and you’re reaching that limit and it feels like you’re going to break. It is that strength that comes out of nowhere just when you feel like you can’t bear it anymore. Well, maybe it doesn’t come out of nowhere actually. It is injected in your bloodstream by the rays of hope that pierce the sky as you realize you aren’t that far from the next step anymore. It is the sudden strength that seizes your body when you look up and can see the last set of stairs.

You’ve been through the rain, the storm, the heat, the harsh waves and you feel despair and darkness slowly crawl in the back of your mind, ready to spread and make you abandon ship. But then, the ocean shakes your ship and forces you to look up and there it is. Land ho! That spark of hope that is enough to keep you going. You see what I mean?

We were mostly fueled by applesauce this week. So, it was easy to get weak halfway through the first half of the journey. But then, we’d walk a few steps in the parking lot and see the bus stop and get that little jolt of energy to walk a little faster and get to sit there to rest a bit. The bus stop was our “Land ho!” moment. And sitting there felt like some cheaper version of Heaven. From there, we had only a few more steps to take to reach the building. So this helped rekindle the fire and get the engine running again, already rejoicing to the idea of putting the damn bags down in the room and take our shoes off for a moment.

The ultimate jolt of energy like a kick in the ass from a foot with the flesh of Hope and the shoe of Faith. It doesn’t erase the tiredness, the pain or anything, but it puts them way in the background because at that moment you really see how tiny they are, just details. And at that moment, all you think about is your goal and all you wanna do is get there and you will. This jolt of energy actually restores the state of mind you had before all the hardship, when you were ready to tear apart the world to get to where you were headed; back when you still had the naivety to believe that you could make it without bruises and in one piece.

Alright. I think you’ve got it by now! Ha ha. I might have went a little far with the words (as always) but I think I made my point! 😉

We live in hope. Hope lives within us. And often, it’s what keeps us alive. It’s a mix of wish and certainty. It is desire AND confidence which is why I believe it can make us so strong. You want it to happen but you aren’t just wishing, you know it will, you believe it will. So you stick around to see if it actually does because you can’t be sure, it’s still part-wish.

Alright. I’m almost done. Long read, I know! 😛

All of this was just for me to say that often people would give up a few steps before they reach their bus stop, the big tree’s shadow, because they were overcome with the hardship. And it’s sad.

Now, every time I feel I want to give up, I remind myself that maybe that means I ain’t that far from the last set of stairs so maybe I should keep going because ultimately I want to climb that damn building. It’d be a shame to go through the pain of going down the stairs that you managed to live through in the first place just because you can’t bear it anymore. I want to reach the next floor so why should I be thinking of going down?

So, if you feel like giving up, look for some place to rest and if you don’t see one, just sit exactly where you are and rest. Give your body and mind the time to gather more strength to go on and then keep going. I don’t think there’s ever a time where turning back is interesting. Think of it that way: going back will make you more tired too, so if you have to suffer some more, wouldn’t you it rather be to get a little closer to your goal?

Point made. I believe. 😉

Thanks for reading! ❤