An epiphany came to me. Mired in women, booze, energy, and just the right bit of solitude. What’s the point of life if you can’t struggle?
If I didn’t have to tell myself, you need to stop smoking so much. What would be the point?
If I didn’t have to tell myself, you need to hit the gym. What would be the point?
If I didn’t have to tell myself, go and talk to that fine ass girl about 5 feet away. What would be the point?
Without struggle , life is empty. I have to keep moving or I’ll rot. You know when a person can’t live anymore they become a corpse literally and figuratively.
It’s why I’m a fan of the self improvement mentality. The keep yourself going mentality. Once you’re in the grave, the maggots will eat at your corpse until nothing is left. Once you’re not struggling, the maggots of self indulgence, boredom, and stagnation eat at your living corpse until all that is left is a shell.
Realize the meaning of life is different for everyone, but the one commonality is that there is a struggle.
All the best,
Comte De St. Germain