I spend quite a sizeable chunk of my time reading success stories in financial publications and think to myself the feeling of surrealism excavated from within the people I’m reading about when they think of the adversities they have had to overcome to reach the point they’ve reached.
It’s quite thrilling and inspiring.

And I tend to then think of myself that way; when I’m all grown and I’ve somehow managed to overcome the daily adversities I go through. I’ve managed to attain some of my current prioritized desires. Perhaps I’ve even managed to find someone whom I share with all those experiences.

It’s surprisingly therapeutic and comforting. It exudes a certain kind of feeling, which is inexplicable.

Because it’s like, I am honestly explicitly exhausted of all that I have to endure in my life. I’m tired of dealing with it. I’m tired of facing it. I’m tired of the depression it’s causing. I’m tired of the panic attacks at the wee hours of the mornings it’s causing. I’m tired of the weight loss it results. I’m tired of the stress it drags the people I care for through. I’m just… I don’t know, tired of the effect it has in my life, I guess.

Which I can presume is the worst thing to feel. Because, I mean, when you’re feeling angry at something, you want revenge over it. And you might even be willing to go to great lengths to get it. When you’re feeling tired, however, you don’t want nothing to do with whatever made you feel tired and since you don’t have the energy to combat it, you just sit there and wait for it to do whatever its mission was and get done, so you can get on with your life.

So, when I lose myself in thoughts of the person I dream to be some day—be it this life time or the next, if such myths are true—I discover solace, and not only in seeing myself as that person, but also in retrospectively looking at myself when I think of what I now have. I discover comfort and certainty.

I become a success story articled in a financial publication, being read by another me.

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