Neurologically Driven Anxiety

It's coming close to a year, but the mere thought of running into an old acquaintance remains an prime trigger for a very odd heartache. I can't put it in words, perhaps this is the type of pain a person recovering from a traumatic incident experiences when they revisit an old crash site or similar.

I'm not saying mine is as grave as a traffic accident, but it feels as confusing to this day. Interesting nonetheless.

That aside, I was very inspired by Seneca's quote:

"What man can you show me who places any value on his time, who reckons the worth of each day, who understands that he is dying daily?"

It's rather morbid to think in these terms, but I do agree that it puts things into perspective. What matters and what doesn't.

If something scares me, I have made it a point to summon whatever courage I have in order to face it. After all, one man's fear is another man's indifference. I just tend to make a big deal out of something personal, when in fact it's more common than air.

Reading about the stories of the courageous men of past has made me realized how we are all coddled by the very foundations that have taken them blood, sweat, and tears to lay down. And here we are as men making a joke out of our lives by whining, crying over spilled milk, and complaining. Compared to them, we should be ashamed to be even standing on what they have built together as men of honor.

Nevertheless, I feel indebted to the men of past for setting example and in ink their accounts and wisdom so that it may reach those who seek of it.

My shoulder blade muscle is healing, and I'm very very happy that I can avoid going to a physiologist now!

The hustle continues!