Might not be forever...

Being alive is finite. That which exists must be finite. That which does not exist is infinite potential. The potential is potential existence. That which may exist already exists in a different form. The infinite potential is the ability of the being always to be new. Nothingness exists in the form of nonexistence. Existence of nonexistence exists. Infinity of the finite is the secret of existence. The very finiteness of the eye of the universe leads to infinity. Only nothing is infinite in its endlessness. Its endlessness is its end. The nothingness of itself and for itself is absolute.

Hold his chest, let it breathe...

Sometimes, I'm overwhelmed by it all, the vastness of this life, the absolute miracle that I exist at this moment in time. How much magic is out in the universe, stretching beyond what the eye can see, reaching distances the mind can't even comprehend? Yet I am here. I am alive. 

When it comes to success, he can't ever get enough. His entire self-worth is based on it, and he tends to go from victory to victory to avoid feeling awful. In a way, it's pure homeostasis at work. The buzz from triumph is neutralized quickly, leaving him in a state of hangover and angst. Knowing he will be looking for the bump again very soon, his brain ultimately adjusts to a baseline feeling of anti-success. After a while, he needs it constantly just to not feel like a failure. He will run and run but make no real progress toward his goal - simply avoiding being thrown off the back from stopping or slowing down.

It's okay, I'm okay...