I am ashamed of how little I valued the fact that my time on earth is finite. I regret all the things I could have done but did not do. All the people I could have had amazing, life-changing conversations with.
I hate that I gave so much time to consuming rather than creating.
I have no fondness for the avalanche of anxiety and restlessness that almost buried me as a result.
These days, I engage in things that push me towards the life I want. Because each time I don’t, I lose momentum and the next day is that much harder to tackle.
I make a point to always have something in my daily routine that makes me feel uncomfortable. Something I’m sacred of. Something that I would rather think about than do. It can be writing, making music, learning a new skill, studying new ways to live, or even a harder exercise routine. Hope breaking out from my shell would make me a better version of myself.