Pressure seems to give meaning.

My brain was running at 1000 an hour, engine completely redlined but not blowing up. And somehow it never felt like I found so much meaning.

They call it balance. It's fear. There's a difference.

Strange what pressure does to you. At moments I just want to chill for a bit. Just breathe. But then you realize how far you can actually go before you break - and it's usually much much further than you thought.

You lose track of time completely. A day is an hour. Weeks disappear. And then you surface and realize you've gone further than you knew was possible.

And you're not sure you'd want it to stop.

At this age tho, it works. You need to find out what you're actually made of. Getting there breaks you apart. That's fine.

It's not in the comfort, but in pain.