"Don't waste it- put it away, save it. That way its there when you need it!"
"I'm not afraid that you'll become a failure, son. My biggest fear is that you'll become mediocre."
No happy ending for the man in the mirror. Walked in to see my pop laying there with a blank look in his eyes. Foam around his mouth. I flip the switch inside: I don't see my father anymore- I see a man dying who needs help.
"This is what a dying man looks like," I think to myself.
I lift him up, remove the food he's choking on with the heimlich maneuver. I remove the food. I call 911. They take him away.
Relief washes over me- not just relief that my dad's life was saved: relief that the burden that was on my shoulders had been lifted. No more diapers. No more watching him die, over and over again. No more watching him come in and out, like a revolving door.
"I tried," I think to myself. "Let the professionals handle it."
We had a good run.
I visit my dad in the hospital. He's recovering well enough.
"I can't take care of you anymore, dad."
His face falls. He's sad.
"I'm getting better...!" He trails off, with an almost pathetic tone, like even he's not convinced.
It was a relief too, I've heard that before- before I would inevitably find him with a glazed look and an open mouth, laying in bed curled up like a roach.
"It's too much for me, I've gotta do my own thing now."
"Let them take care of you."
He's sad, I see a tear run down his face. He is getting better, but it only takes one bad day to get back to square one.
I return home. I sleep. I wake up, and make a couple shit posts- I'm an EC now. Time to dispense some wisdom on these kids.
They're not well received, what's going on? I'm doing all the right things, using all the right words, holding frame, Bros.
One user's comment jolts me-
Mate, you're hamstering so hardcore that I'm not even reading those walls of text you produce. Not that I count here or there. It's just your hamstering is so dense that I can basically smell it from here.
Hamstering? Me? I'm in the top percentile of health. I lift, I read, a dumb thot approached me at the club last night. What the fuck are they all talking about- why am I even here if they're just going to shit it on me, this group of fucking-know-it-alls.
I roll it around in mind for awhile- back to the same question.

Why Am I Here?

What did I come here for? Why did I make this account to post here?
Because I was hurting before- years ago when I first started lurking. I wanted to make the pain go away. I wanted answers. I wanted solutions. I wanted to be free.
What happened to that guy? That guy was on fire. Nothing stood in his way.
"Why am I here?" I ask again.
I close my eyes. I clench my fist until it hurts- the lifting, the fighting, the working. My fingers, they're a bit soar. They used to hurt more than this. Much more.
"I've gotten soft."
Freedom. That's why I came here.
Not freedom from pain.
Not freedom from rejection.
Not freedom from failure.
Not freedom from responsibility.
Freedom from Fear.
And pain is the price I must pay for freedom.
I walk back into the hospital-
"It's ok, dad. I'm here now."
He looks depressed.
"I gave you my word, that I'd do whatever it takes."
"You're coming home."
I'm sitting at the gym, I even wrestled with the BrownBelt. We shook hands. He was right: I'm just making bullshit excuses.
I sit down with the coach after. I tell him I'm taking my dad in. He wonders if that's a good idea, after what we've been through. "Are you sure you want to do this?"
"Coach, strength is doing what needs to be done, even if it hurts."
"If I wanted to be free from pain, all I needed to do was let him die."
"I signed up for this, this is why I'm here."
I lift up my arms-
"They're hurting, but I still come and lift. I still train."
Freedom from fear, not freedom from pain. That's why I'm here.
Comfort is the enemy of progress.
Where are you looking?
TRP is the tuner of the self.
Self importance- the thing that feeds our ego. One of the three pillars of frame.
Self importance is how we think of ourselves.
It is the source of everything good in is, and it's also tangled up with everything rotten within us.
You need to remove the bad whilst keeping the good.
The power, the anger, the pain. All of this we have within us.
But it's not yours, although you hold it for now. Its just your turn.
It's the fire within, the torch passed unto us by our ancestors.
The accumulation of failed dreams. The lost loves. The missed opportunities. The failed attempts. The unbearable, heart-wrenching pain. All the sacrifices made by every single individual in our lineage that got us to where we are today.
Just so you could be here today. The opportunity for you to break this cycle. The chance for you to make all your dreams come true.
The chance for you to die a free Man.
And you will surpass them. Because you have knowledge: TRP. They did not.
Don't waste it. One day it will be your turn to pass it on. Put everything you've got into it. Comfort is the enemy of progress. Pride is the sign of failure. Pain is your ally- it keeps you true. It reminds you why you are here.
Don't forget why you're here. Freedom. Don't be afraid anymore. Pay the price. Pain is the currency of men. Comfort is for women.
Be free.