Hidden far beneath an external layer of material success and physical comfort is a heavy burden, an unconscious feeling something is wrong. I have a monster inside of me. Cycling through the seasons watching life unfold, I’ve always been haunted by deep feelings “I’m capable of more.” Material social comforts, my avoidance of fear, and the lack of impossible challenges are incongruent to how I want to live as a man.

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I’ve always felt a dull ache, a strange off-balance sensation I’m awakening from a dream within a dream. Searching for something important, long ago forgotten, I feel homesick but can’t remember where or even what home is. The memory teases me, always on the tip of my tongue. Then it tortures me. Hiding in a slippery evening fog of amnesia, the answer to my life is always a millimeter beyond my fingertips. My quest to remember compels me, helping me grow by setting challenging goals, relentlessly moving forward, regardless of my age.