How many times have I failed before? How many times have I stood here like this, in front of my own image, in front of my own person, trying to convince him not to be scared, to go on, to get out of this rut? How many times before I finally convince myself, how many private, erasable deaths will I need to die, how may self-murders is it going to take, how many times will I have to destroy myself before I learn, before I understand?

There is a sense in which I am pretty sure this makes no sense. I don't know where this is going. I don't know how it ends.

You want to tell a story? Grow a heart. Grow two. Now, with the second heart, smash the first one into bits.

How do you convince someone to change, to stop being afraid of himself? How do you convince yourself not to be so scared all the time?

This, then, is my choice: I can allow the events of my life to happen to me. Or I can take those very same actions and make them my own. I can live in my own present, risk failure, be assured of failure.

At some point in your life, this statement will be true: tomorrow you will lose everything forever.

Maybe we spend most of our decades being someone else, avoiding ourselves, maybe a man is only himself, his true self, for a few days in his entire life.