The master has failed more times than the beginner has even tried.
I know. Another one of those quotes that has been used and abused by people that it has become a cliche. But make no mistake: failure is inevitable, and the more you fail, the more you succeed.
I have lost time and time again. I have lost everything a couple of times, or so it felt to me. I have lost friends, family, all my money, my soulmate, my joy, my hope, my passion, my patience, my health…
Yes, it wasn’t much, but it was everything I had.
I have lost time and time again.
And this is why I keep going.
Quite strange, isn’t it?
Wouldn’t it make sense to give up?
Wouldn’t it make sense to realize that maybe you’re not strong enough for the kind of life you’re trying to live? Wouldn’t it be best to compromise, to give up on certain notions and ideals, to stop fighting?
I find that the thing we are willing to live for will, from time to time, demands of us that we die for it. Our biggest passion. The fire that makes us feel invincible.
My dream has always been to become a writer. To write stories, to share my words with the world. To change the world for the better by writing one word after another.
How many times did I fail so far?
Well… every single story, every novel, every blog post, every essay, all of them failed. None of them changed the world. Not in the manner that I’d dream about when I was a kid. But each of them changed a bit of the world around me, gave a bit of hope to those who had none.
My words offered comfort to the disturbed, and managed to disturb the comfortable. Sometimes. Whenever I got lucky and wrote something better than I usually could.
I wanted to quit more times than I can count. I wanted to give up on life entirely a few times. I just… felt lonely. The kind of loneliness that no words can ever address. The kind of loneliness that no one can ever heal.
I felt broken beyond repair a few times. As if nothing could ever offer me the sort of redemption I was after.
A few times in my life I felt as if hell was, indeed, other people. As if they had it better. A true dark night of the soul, when no tragedy that is bestowed upon another makes you feel better about the weight that you have to carry.
Yes, I felt all of that, and I kept going on. I kept on living, even though it felt as if I had died. I forced myself to do it. And never, ever chose to deny yourself this kind of strength.
Your breaking point is farther than where you think you’ll actually break. Always.
Never forget this. Never give up without a fight. Never give up without giving your all.
If you enjoy my writing, if you believe that I add even an ounce of value in this world, I urge you to contribute any amount you see fit here. Any amount at all.
That is all.