2025-05-28
MUSINGS
8 min read
Losing yourself
"The older I get, the more I realize that age doesn't bring wisdom. It only brings weary. I'm not any smarter than I was 30 years ago. I've just grown too tired to juggle the lies and hide the fears. Self-awareness doesn't reveal my indiscretions, exhaustion does."
I remember the first time I'd encountered John Teller's words. I had been no older than maybe 19 or 20 years old. At the time, the immediate thought that had jumped to my mind had been clear - it felt like someone had a window into my brain, and had ripped the subconcious thought straight from it.
I'm now 4 years older, and I realize now how little I'd known back then. One failed startup, the realization of how the world operates, and experience have revealed to me I was far more optimisitic and unappreciative of Teller's words than I had once realized. My story, history, experiences, and beliefs have revealed to me that I'm no longer certain the person I want to be, and who one must become in order to succeed are compatible.
It's a strange feeling to most outsiders. No doubt most readers will indeed raise an eyebrow and immediately have the notion of sociopathy, or other malcontent come to mind; but that's because most people have not struggled. Struggle and pain ellicit a certain survival instinct that when activated, is similar to a body digesting itself - it's a train that doesn't stop. When one has seen the wolves at the door the only thought one has for the rest of their lives is 'how do I prevent them from hurting those who I love, and that which I desire?'. It's that thought that has lived in my mind every single day for the majority of my life.
Ironically the sinister part of it all, is that the fatigue that fear is accompanied by slowly wittles you away. You ultimately find yourself more and more unable to discern the man in the mirror from the very wolf you had sought out to destroy. Fear makes you forget who you are, experience jades you, and free-thought makes you furious. I'd never realized it today, until I finally had slipped up and abandoned a principle I had long once held.
In all of my melancholy however, I realize that the optimism I once had in my youth, and that I had believed to be the source of my damnation and failure, is now also my path to redemption. The only way one traverses life and lives and dies on their terms, is if they believe and have the optimism they have the ability to do so. It's with that, I have to believe that not only can I be a good person with firm beliefs and faith yet still succeed, but also that there exists others like this who ultimately will push the world through shear willpower towards it.
To the reader who may one day stumble across this writing and have the same visceral reaction I had once had when reading the words of John Teller - I implore you to never forget yourself. No matter how exhausted you become. Never become the wolf, become the lion. Never surrender. It is better to be bold, live and be prepared to die on your terms, no one elses - than it is to live a wolf on the terms of the other.
I remember the first time I'd encountered John Teller's words. I had been no older than maybe 19 or 20 years old. At the time, the immediate thought that had jumped to my mind had been clear - it felt like someone had a window into my brain, and had ripped the subconcious thought straight from it.
I'm now 4 years older, and I realize now how little I'd known back then. One failed startup, the realization of how the world operates, and experience have revealed to me I was far more optimisitic and unappreciative of Teller's words than I had once realized. My story, history, experiences, and beliefs have revealed to me that I'm no longer certain the person I want to be, and who one must become in order to succeed are compatible.
It's a strange feeling to most outsiders. No doubt most readers will indeed raise an eyebrow and immediately have the notion of sociopathy, or other malcontent come to mind; but that's because most people have not struggled. Struggle and pain ellicit a certain survival instinct that when activated, is similar to a body digesting itself - it's a train that doesn't stop. When one has seen the wolves at the door the only thought one has for the rest of their lives is 'how do I prevent them from hurting those who I love, and that which I desire?'. It's that thought that has lived in my mind every single day for the majority of my life.
Ironically the sinister part of it all, is that the fatigue that fear is accompanied by slowly wittles you away. You ultimately find yourself more and more unable to discern the man in the mirror from the very wolf you had sought out to destroy. Fear makes you forget who you are, experience jades you, and free-thought makes you furious. I'd never realized it today, until I finally had slipped up and abandoned a principle I had long once held.
In all of my melancholy however, I realize that the optimism I once had in my youth, and that I had believed to be the source of my damnation and failure, is now also my path to redemption. The only way one traverses life and lives and dies on their terms, is if they believe and have the optimism they have the ability to do so. It's with that, I have to believe that not only can I be a good person with firm beliefs and faith yet still succeed, but also that there exists others like this who ultimately will push the world through shear willpower towards it.
To the reader who may one day stumble across this writing and have the same visceral reaction I had once had when reading the words of John Teller - I implore you to never forget yourself. No matter how exhausted you become. Never become the wolf, become the lion. Never surrender. It is better to be bold, live and be prepared to die on your terms, no one elses - than it is to live a wolf on the terms of the other.
Do not go gentle into that good night, Old age should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right, Because their words had forked no lightning they Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light.