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I wear the strain of life like a badge of honor.
Bloodshot eyes and an off-kilter walk are signs of a restless night that I dragged kicking and screaming into the early hours of the day.
My eyes and walk are the bedrock of a modern man’s hustle—stuck in a dance-like rhythm with no beginning or end.
Somewhere among the haze of medication, existential thought, and midnight barrel rolls are moments—hiccups in time where the light shines through the fog:
You’re the one you’ve been waiting for.
In the dark hours of the night or during the solitary slogs to work or, maybe, the moments when you’re truly alone—you’ve got no choice but to square off with your mind. With yourself.
Stare it down.
Sit with it.
With decisions past, present, and future. With the split seconds of time that have defined your life and will continue to chart your path in years to come.
So in those moments, those hiccups, resist the urge to look away. Grab the mirror, white knuckle that glass, and stare back.