I’ve come to realize that every person I know and encountered in life is broken in some form or fashion.
That I’m not the only one who’s secretly suffering in silence.
I almost killed myself a few weeks and I think it has to do with my empathy for others and apathy for myself.
I hate myself for being imperfect, for not being superhuman, for lacking discipline, for getting old, letting myself go and giving up on my health.
I was a really good looking guy in my twenties and I squandered my youth in a most horrible relationship with a very beautiful woman who I now suspect felt the same way about herself back then as I do about myself now.
I forgive her for how miserable she made me but I can’t forgive myself for not being strong enough to separate myself from her until I finally packed my bags and moved here to the west coast where I met and fell in love with my wife.
Although I love her, I’m not happy about my station in life. I’m not content with my career status. I’m one of the very best in my field yet I’m underrated and under appreciated by my colleagues. This disturbs me to no end and I’m obsessed with leaving an indelible mark on my profession before I go.
My wife doesn’t understand why my career aspirations are so important to me because she grew up in the wine country of California with a privilege I didn’t have growing up. I’m from the hardened streets of New York, I had to work ten times harder and fight for everything in my life.
I refuse to die an asterisk or an after thought. I must make history in my field. Some kid in college will write a paper about me. I will succeed at this somehow, some way…
