On feeling broken

“When you are the anvil, be patient. When you are the hammer, strike.”

– Arabian Proverb

I have this defect. One of my legs. Nothing too crazy, it just makes me walk in a funny way.

I also don’t have the most symmetric of faces.

I used to weight some 55kg at a height of 175 cm.

I’ve been sick of one thing or another ever since I can remember. Spent a lot of time in hospitals.

I’ve been alone for almost all my life.

I’ve been depressed, socially anxious, lonely, tired, so, so tired, I’ve been suicidal, self-destructive, selfish, and a real pain in the ass for a lot of people.

I spent eight years writing without earning a dime, being constantly told to give up.

I felt broken. Broken beyond repair, a sinner that is no longer worthy of redemption.

But, through it all, I lived. I have survived all the bad days so far.

I have fought and keep fighting. The good fight. The grind. The crazy hustle. The hundred hour work weeks, the “die trying” sort of thing.

We are all broken. We are aware of our own mortality, of how fragile it all is.

And then life happens…

Do you want to go through life without a few scratches to prove that you were alive?

And if you could do that, the act of pursuing comfort will break your heart.

The one sure way to end up with a boring, miserable life is to always try to find pleasure and happiness. To do what is easy.

Life is not a balancing act. Stop pretending it is.

Life is about satisfaction. The struggle pleases us, not the victory. It’s about the climb, not reaching the top.

It’s not winning that truly counts, but our desire to win.

Life breaks us all, but we are not broken. We are stronger.

Stronger because what does not kill us, makes us wish it did. For a long time.

Hell is being killed by something and then being forced to keep on living.

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11 thoughts on “On feeling broken

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