Writing Helps

He was ambitious. For a brief moment in time, it seemed like he was going to conquer the world. Nothing could stand in his way. It was as if somebody opened the flood gates to a world of new opportunities. Did he have a sunstroke? Nope. He was euphoric...

An hour passed, and his awesome attitude betrayed him. The bubble pierced and he, once again, was left alone. A slow realisation sinked in, a realisation that a lot of the new things he valued and thought to be important in his life were in fact not so, but were artificial and hollow. It was true — absolutely nothing stood in his way. Where’s the fun in that? Lost and helpless. If not for the false hopes, he would’ve still craved for the things every guy aspires to get.

Lost, helpless? Far from the truth. Never in his life did he come to be those things. He may have felt so at trying times, but who doesn’t? One of his most defining traits was that he knew what he wanted to get out of life. He was very purposeful and determined to reach his aim. He knew where he wanted to land, and was ambitious. Very ambitious. Maybe that’s where he fell short; he did not have much patience, nor the tenacity to endure the little things. He wanted everything and at once. But that was impossible, and all that was left was to persevere and hope for the best.

Meanwhile, writing helped.

$root - whoami
purposeful pinot
Big Words and Meaning Thereof

// Go back in time

On the Importance of Conversing with People

// To the future

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Tagged under Depression