Nostalgic of the angst-ridden hero of my own dark, indie film... Thinking of the despair and self-pity that surrounded the time spent wallowing in my failure, abusing my body and any substance I could get my hands on. Is there a sort of romanticism surrounding the embrace of failure and escape from any sort of expectation? The tinge of memory was brought on by NIN Hurt, and it's not healthy or reasonable, but for a moment I was thinking that it was an interesting time, bit of a self-made martyr sort of romantic situation. Is that easily understood?
Now I'm embracing my own success - I am what I want to be, intellectually, physically, extrinsically me. What a change! Sometimes I guess it can be overwhelming, not sure if that's the possibility of success or failure, but being in control is a powerful feeling. I like the new me, and I can't wait to look in the mirror and finally see myself :)
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Ever time you work out instead of wallowing in your "failure, abusing (your) body and any substance (you) could get my hands on." is a success.
Take pride in that and keep up the great work! Glad to see the blog up and running again!
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