Pain Fuels Me Quotes

And then I unwind her. One strand for my mother. One for my father. One for me. I unravel the rage until it courses through my veins like fuel in an engine. I let it become a part of me, but not all of me. Hot, scorching pain under my skin, under my tongue, under my nails. I let it spread through me—until there is no more “Before” and no more “After.” I am her and she is me.

I am here to keep becoming truer, more beautiful versions of myself again and again forever. To be alive is to be in a perpetual state of revolution. Whether I like it or not, pain is the fuel of revolution. Everything I need to become the woman I’m meant to be next is inside my feelings of now. Life is alchemy, and emotions are the fire that turns me to gold. I will continue to become only if I resist extinguishing myself a million times a day. If I can sit in the fire of my own feelings, I will keep becoming.

I stretched out my hand, adrenaline and pain giving me plenty of fuel for the magic, and called, 'Ventas servitas!' Wind leapt out in a sudden spurt, seizing the Unraveling and tearing it from Aurora's fingers, sending it spinning through the air toward me. I caught it, stuck my tongue out at Aurora, yelled, 'Meep, meep!' and ran like hell.

The right road is rarely the easy road. And no war is ever fought without casualties." "Is that what this is?" Sophie asked. "A war?" "Unfortunately, yes. A quiet war to stop a louder one from raging. You may hate me for asking this of him, but this is the cold reality we all face. We cannot control the actions of others, nor stop them from disappointing us. We can only use the anger and pain to fuel us. To help us rise above.

Do Something! I was sitting on a plane after a long, tiring business trip. I was a bit grouchy and irritable because the rigorous schedule I had made for myself left me exhausted. Looking to not talk to the person next to me and simply endure the flight, I decided to open my newspaper and read about what was happening in the world. As I continued to read, it seemed that everywhere I looked there were stories of injustice, pain, suffering, and people losing hope. Finally, fueled by my tired, irritable state, I became overcome with compassion and frustration for the way things were. I got up and went to the bathroom and broke down. With tears streaming down my face, I helplessly looked to the sky and yelled to God. “God, look at this mess. Look at all this pain and suffering. Look at all this killing and hate. God, how could you let this happen? Why don’t you do something?” Just then, a quiet stillness pacified my heart. A feeling of peace I won’t ever forget engulfed my body. And, as I looked into my own eyes in the mirror, the answer to my own question came back to me… “Steve, stop asking God to do something. God already did something, he gave you life. Now YOU do something!

I stroke the back of her head. “You make me forget the worst parts of life.” She actually smiles, focused back on the street. “And what’s the term for that?” I think for a moment. A person who shrouds the painful moments, who conspires to make joyful ones. Who eliminates all the mundane shades in favor of ardent colors and keeps you burning alive. Is there a word for this rare person in someone’s life? I think there is. “Soul mate,

Loving someone else isn’t easy. It doubles pain. It doubles worry. It doubles sentiments that I dislike in one dose. Loving someone else is a complex web of emotions, trying to ensnare me.

Whether I like it or not, pain is the fuel of revolution. Everything I need to become the woman I'm meant to be next is inside my feelings of now. Life is alchemy, and emotions are the fire that turns me to gold. I will continue to become only if I resist extinguishing myself a million times a day. If I can sit in the fire of my own feelings, I will keep becoming.

What is ahead of me is fueled by the experiences behind me.

Please," she whispered. "Make love to me. Just today. I know you don't love me. Pretend, just for tonight. Hold me in your arms for once." I had been fueled by self-hatred when I'd dealt with Antonio and Raffaele, but that was nothing in comparison to what I felt now. I deserved tenfold of the pain I'd caused them.

In the past eighteen years, I have learned two things about pain. First: I can feel everything and survive. What I thought would kill me, didn’t. Every time I said to myself: I can’t take this anymore—I was wrong. The truth was that I could and did take it all—and I kept surviving. Surviving again and again made me less afraid of myself, of other people, of life. I learned that I’d never be free from pain but I could be free from the fear of pain, and that was enough. I finally stopped avoiding fires long enough to let myself burn, and what I learned was that I am like that burning bush: The fire of pain won’t consume me. I can burn and burn and live. I can live on fire. I am fireproof. Second: I can use pain to become. I am here to keep becoming truer, more beautiful versions of myself again and again forever. To be alive is to be in a perpetual state of revolution. Whether I like it or not, pain is the fuel of revolution. Everything I need to become the woman I’m meant to be next is inside my feelings of now. Life is alchemy, and emotions are the fire that turns me to gold. I will continue to become only if I resist extinguishing myself a million times a day. If I can sit in the fire of my own feelings, I will keep becoming.

am here to keep becoming truer, more beautiful versions of myself again and again forever. To be alive is to be in a perpetual state of revolution. Whether I like it or not, pain is the fuel of revolution. Everything I need to become the woman I’m meant to be next is inside my feelings of now. Life is alchemy, and emotions are the fire that turns me to gold. I will continue to become only if I resist extinguishing myself a million times a day. If I can sit in the fire of my own feelings, I will keep becoming.

Second: I can use pain to become. I am here to keep becoming truer, more beautiful versions of myself again and again forever. To be alive is to be in a perpetual state of revolution. Whether I like it or not, pain is the fuel of revolution. Everything I need to become the woman I’m meant to be next is inside my feelings of now. Life is alchemy, and emotions are the fire that turns me to gold. I will continue to become only if I resist extinguishing myself a million times a day. If I can sit in the fire of my own feelings, I will keep becoming.

Here is the thing that is true about fire: it creates power, but it also creates destruction. My fire has fueled many victories, but it has destroyed what I had with the person I love most in the world. My fire had caused me much pain but I can't put it out. I don't want to.

Hate was the fuel, and lust the spark, and now there was no stopping this inferno.

First: I can feel everything and survive. What I thought would kill me, didn’t. Every time I said to myself: I can’t take this anymore—I was wrong. The truth was that I could and did take it all—and I kept surviving. Surviving again and again made me less afraid of myself, of other people, of life. I learned that I’d never be free from pain but I could be free from the fear of pain, and that was enough. I finally stopped avoiding fires long enough to let myself burn, and what I learned was that I am like that burning bush: The fire of pain won’t consume me. I can burn and burn and live. I can live on fire. I am fireproof. Second: I can use pain to become. I am here to keep becoming truer, more beautiful versions of myself again and again forever. To be alive is to be in a perpetual state of revolution. Whether I like it or not, pain is the fuel of revolution. Everything I need to become the woman I’m meant to be next is inside my feelings of now. Life is alchemy, and emotions are the fire that turns me to gold. I will continue to become only if I resist extinguishing myself a million times a day. If I can sit in the fire of my own feelings, I will keep becoming.

Second: I can use pain to become. I am here to keep becoming truer, more beautiful versions of myself again and again forever. To be alive is to be in a perpetual state of revolution. Whether I like it or not, pain is the fuel of revolution. Everything I need to become the woman I’m meant to be next is inside my feelings of now. Life is alchemy, and emotions are the fire that turns me to gold. I will continue to become only if I resist extinguishing myself a million times a day. If I can sit in the fire of my own feelings, I will keep becoming.

I had witnessed his pain in motion; the way he had stroked over the sea fueled by something so similar to what fueled me. The agony he couldn’t hide from his caramel-colored eyes. I was drawn to whatever was broken in him, probably in the same way that he was drawn to what was broken in me.

Maybe the prolonged “festival of cruelty” going on in our literature and movies is an attempt to get rid of repressed anger by expressing it, acting it out symbolically. Kick everybody’s ass all the time! Torture the torturer! Describe every agony! Blow up everything over and over! Does this orgy of simulated or “virtual” violence relieve anger, or increase the leaden inward load of fear and pain that causes it? For me, the latter; it makes me sick and scares me. Anger that targets everything and everybody indiscriminately is the futile, infantile, psychotic rage of the man with an automatic rifle shooting preschoolers. I can’t see it as a way of life, even pretended life. You hear the anger in my tone? Anger indulged rouses anger. Yet anger suppressed breeds anger. What is the way to use anger to fuel something other than hurt, to direct it away from hatred, vengefulness, self-righteousness, and make it serve creation and compassion?

There's a small moment in this chapter when Bella wants to practice fighting techniques with Emmett, but Edward won't let her. Emmett is here? Hi Emmett! Hey Emmett, according to Google Maps, you live 2,931 miles away from me. If I don't make any stops for food or fuel, and sit on a pile of absorbent kitty litter, I can make the trip in 48 hours. So I can be there by Sunday or Monday. Oh…hey, did you know Monday is Valentine's Day? That's super weird, right? Didn't plan that at all. I swear. OK, see you then! Anyway, Bella wants to practice with Emmett but Edward says no. Huh? Not only does Edward refuse to teach his wife basic self-defense, but she can't even learn some tips from The Pain Maker? Why? I dare you to explain this. I double wolf dare you.

Ego or fixed identity doesn’t just mean we have a fixed idea about ourselves. It also means that we have a fixed idea about everything we perceive. I have a fixed idea about you; you have a fixed idea about me. And once there is that feeling of separation, it gives rise to strong emotions. In Buddhism, strong emotions like anger, craving, pride, and jealousy are known as kleshas—conflicting emotions that cloud the mind. The kleshas are our vehicle for escaping groundlessness, and therefore every time we give in to them, our preexisting habits are reinforced. In Buddhism, going around and around, recycling the same patterns, is called samsara. And samsara equals pain. We keep trying to get away from the fundamental ambiguity of being human, and we can’t. We can’t escape it any more than we can escape change, any more than we can escape death. The cause of our suffering is our reaction to the reality of no escape: ego clinging and all the trouble that stems from it, all the things that make it difficult for us to be comfortable in our own skin and get along with one another. If the way to deal with those feelings is to stay present with them without fueling the story line, then it begs the question: How do we get in touch with the fundamental ambiguity of being human in the first place? In fact, it’s not difficult, because underlying uneasiness is usually present in our lives. It’s pretty easy to recognize but not so easy to interrupt. We may experience this uneasiness as anything from slight edginess to sheer terror. Anxiety makes us feel vulnerable, which we generally don’t like. Vulnerability comes in many guises. We may feel off balance, as if we don’t know what’s going on, don’t have a handle on things. We may feel lonely or depressed or angry. Most of us want to avoid emotions that make us feel vulnerable, so we’ll do almost anything to get away from them. But if, instead of thinking of these feelings as bad, we could think of them as road signs or barometers that tell us we’re in touch with groundlessness, then we would see the feelings for what they really are: the gateway to liberation, an open doorway to freedom from suffering, the path to our deepest well-being and joy. We have a choice. We can spend our whole life suffering because we can’t relax with how things really are, or we can relax and embrace the open-endedness of the human situation, which is fresh, unfixated, unbiased. So the challenge is to notice the emotional tug of shenpa when it arises and to stay with it for one and a half minutes without the story line. Can you do this once a day, or many times throughout the day, as the feeling arises? This is the challenge. This is the process of unmasking, letting go, opening the mind and heart.

Want to know what would have made me feel alone and worse at the airport? Sympathy. If Suzanne had said, “I’m so sorry. You poor thing.” Or “I can’t imagine how hard this must be for you.” She didn’t feel bad for me. She felt pain with me. Empathy is feeling with people. Sympathy is feeling for them. Empathy fuels connection. Sympathy drives disconnection. I always think of empathy as this sacred space where someone’s in a deep well, and they shout out from the bottom, “It’s dark and scary down here. I’m overwhelmed.

The kiss is fueled with pain and passion as he spills his secrets into my mouth, and my tongue greedily hoards them for safekeeping. The regret. The guilt. The shame. I kiss him hard enough to forget them. I kiss him hard enough so he’ll remember me. With every swipe of his tongue, I feel understood. With every swipe of his tongue, I feel a little less lost. With every swipe of his tongue, I feel tethered to a man I can’t have. And with that last tantalizing swipe of my tongue against his, I know I’ll never be alone again.

Words can never adequately convey the incredible impact of our attitude.… I believe the single most important decision I can make on a day-to-day basis is my attitude choice. It’s more important than my past. It’s more important than my education or my bankroll or my success or my failures. My attitude choice is more important than my fame or my pain or what others think or say about me or my position or my circumstances. Attitudes keep me going or cripple my progress. Attitude alone fuels my fire or assaults my hope. When my attitude is right, there is no barrier too high nor valley too deep nor dream too extreme nor challenge too great for me.2

I sat there on that Wednesday evening in my pokey fucking living room, looked at myself on the TV screen being a massive, odious cunt, and realised that nothing has really changed. Deep down, like most of us, still now at the age of thirty-eight, I have this empty, black hole inside of me that nothing and no one seems capable of filling. I say like most of us because, well, look around you. Our society, our businesses, our social constructs, habits, pastimes, addictions and distractions are predicated on vast, endemic levels of emptiness and dissatisfaction. I call it self-hatred. I hate who I was, am and have become and, as we are taught to, I constantly chastise myself for the things I do and say. And such are the global levels of intolerance, greed, entitlement and dysfunction it is evidently not just confined to a small, wounded section of society. We are all in a world of pain. If it was ever any different way back in the past, it has, by now, most certainly become normalised. And I am as angry about that as I am about my own past. There is an anger that runs underneath everything, that fuels my life and feeds the animal inside me. And it is an anger that always, always prevents me, despite my best efforts, from becoming a better version of myself. My goddamn head seems to have a life of its own, quite beyond my control, incapable of reason, compassion or bargaining. It shouts at me from deep inside. As a kid the words didn’t make sense. As an adult it’s waiting at the end of my bed and starts talking an hour or two before I wake up so that when my eyes open it is in full-on rage mode, blaring this shit at me about how glad it is I’m finally awake, how fucked I am today, how there won’t be enough time, I’ll fuck everything up, my friends are plotting against me, trust no one, I must try as hard as I can to salvage everything in my life while knowing it’s already a lost cause. I’m exhausted all the time. It’s a kind of toxic ME – corrosive, pervasive, penetrative, negative, all the bad -ives.

I see how dance transforms the bodies of the stars on the show. I need to lose weight--can it do the same for me? I’m so unmotivated! Absolutely. Dancing you enjoy, so you forget that you’re working out. We associate working out with work and with pain. But dancing is fun and you should go for it if it motivates you to move. All consistent movement helps your metabolism. But I’m not going to say don’t change anything else in your life. You have to be consistent with how often you move, and you need to eat healthily. You can’t dance in the morning and eat cheeseburgers and fries for lunch. What you see on DWTS is a combination of people dancing and changing their habits and their whole lives. In order to do the show, they need to be stronger and they need to be fueled. Your body is your machine; you’ve got to make sure it’s well-oiled.

I know a little of this man, Sandor Clegane. He was Prince Joffrey’s sworn shield for many a year, and even here we would hear tell of his deeds, both good and ill. If even half of what we heard was true, this was a bitter, tormented soul, a sinner who mocked both gods and men. He served, but found no pride in service. He fought, but took no joy in victory. He drank, to drown his pain in a sea of wine. He did not love, nor was he loved himself. It was hate that drove him. Though he committed many sins, he never sought forgiveness. Where other men dream of love, or wealth, or glory, this man Sandor Clegane dreamed of slaying his own brother, a sin so terrible it makes me shudder just to speak of it. Yet that was the bread that nourished him, the fuel that kept his fires burning. Ignoble as it was, the hope of seeing his brother’s blood upon his blade was all this sad and angry creature lived for . . . and even that was taken from him, when Prince Oberyn of Dorne stabbed Ser Gregor with a poisoned spear.

But employee ownership is not just about sharing. It is also, in practice, often about giving. Such schemes depend on someone, usually the proprietor, deciding at some point to transfer ownership of some or all of a company to its employees. And it is this aspect of the ideal, I think, that has the greatest significance for my story. Of all the things I have given, it is arguable that the shares in my company that I gave away had the greatest financial value. In fact, I have rarely thought of this transfer of ownership as a gift, and I would be wrong if I did. The staff had a right to share in the company. Without them, the company would not have been so prosperous (and I am certain that Xansa would never have reached anything like the financial heights it eventually did if it hadn’t been powered by the fuel of staff ownership). But while I never doubted that aspect of the transfer, I did sometimes struggle with a more abstract issue: the fact that transferring ownership also means, ultimately, transferring control. That was the real challenge: surrendering power. Anyone can adjust to having a bit less money; ceding control of an enterprise that really matters to you is, by contrast, painfully counterintuitive. Who in their right mind would entrust an organisation that they have built up against all the odds, through years of tears, toil and sweat, to someone else? What if they mess it up? What if they don’t really understand what it is that you have created? What if they take it in some dangerous new direction, or manage it in a less idealistic way? Yet without that surrender, the most important part of the transaction is lost. A feudal grandee can be as generous as he likes with his wealth and property, but as long as he remains the grandee then his dependants are not empowered: they are merely well-fed. Empowering them means letting go: in other words, ceasing to be the grandee. I have struggled all my life with an instinct to hang on to the things that matter most to me, to control and protect them myself. Yet the art of surrender is, I am convinced, a key to many kinds of success - and fulfilment. And many lives are limited by a failure to master it.

Think about it,” Obama said to us on the flight over. “The Republican Party is the only major party in the world that doesn’t even acknowledge that climate change is happening.” He was leaning over the seats where Susan and I sat. We chuckled. “Even the National Front believes in climate change,” I said, referring to the far-right party in France. “No, think about it,” he said. “That’s where it all began. Once you convince yourself that something like that isn’t true, then…” His voice trailed off, and he walked out of the room. For six years, Obama had been working to build what would become the Paris agreement, piece by piece. Because Congress wouldn’t act, he had to promote clean energy, and regulate fuel efficiency and emissions through executive action. With dozens of other nations, he made climate change an issue in our bilateral relationship, helping design their commitments. At international conferences, U.S. diplomats filled in the details of a framework. Since the breakthrough with China, and throughout 2015, things had been falling into place. When we got to Paris, the main holdout was India. We were scheduled to meet with India’s prime minister, Narendra Modi. Obama and a group of us waited outside the meeting room, when the Indian delegation showed up in advance of Modi. By all accounts, the Indian negotiators had been the most difficult. Obama asked to talk to them, and for the next twenty minutes, he stood in a hallway having an animated argument with two Indian men. I stood off to the side, glancing at my BlackBerry, while he went on about solar power. One guy from our climate team came over to me. “I can’t believe he’s doing this,” he whispered. “These guys are impossible.” “Are you kidding?” I said. “It’s an argument about science. He loves this.” Modi came around the corner with a look of concern on his face, wondering what his negotiators were arguing with Obama about. We moved into the meeting room, and a dynamic became clear. Modi’s team, which represented the institutional perspective of the Indian government, did not want to do what is necessary to reach an agreement. Modi, who had ambitions to be a transformative leader of India, and a person of global stature, was torn. This is one reason why we had done the deal with China; if India was alone, it was going to be hard for Modi to stay out. For nearly an hour, Modi kept underscoring the fact that he had three hundred million people with no electricity, and coal was the cheapest way to grow the Indian economy; he cared about the environment, but he had to worry about a lot of people mired in poverty. Obama went through arguments about a solar initiative we were building, the market shifts that would lower the price of clean energy. But he still hadn’t addressed a lingering sense of unfairness, the fact that nations like the United States had developed with coal, and were now demanding that India avoid doing the same thing. “Look,” Obama finally said, “I get that it’s unfair. I’m African American.” Modi smiled knowingly and looked down at his hands. He looked genuinely pained. “I know what it’s like to be in a system that’s unfair,” he went on. “I know what it’s like to start behind and to be asked to do more, to act like the injustice didn’t happen. But I can’t let that shape my choices, and neither should you.” I’d never heard him talk to another leader in quite that way. Modi seemed to appreciate it. He looked up and nodded.

I can use pain to become. I am here to keep becoming truer, more beautiful versions of myself again and again forever. To be alive is to be in a perpetual state of revolution. Whether I like it or not, pain is the fuel of revolution. Everything I need to become the woman I’m meant to be next is inside my feelings of now. Life is alchemy, and emotions are the fire that turns me to gold. I will continue to become only if I resist extinguishing myself a million times a day. If I can sit in the fire of my own feelings, I will keep becoming.

I didn’t suffer from a lack of fuel. The currentshadows had been so strong all my life, strong enough to render me incapable of attending a simple dinner party, strong enough to bow my back and force tears from my eyes, strong enough to keep me awake and pacing all through the night. Strong enough to kill, but now I understood why they killed. It wasn’t because they drained the life from a person, but because they overwhelmed it. It was like gravity—we needed it to stay grounded, alive, but if it was too strong, it formed a black hole, from which even light could not escape. Yes, the force of the current was too fierce for one body to contain— Unless that body was mine. My body, battered again and again by soldiers and brothers and enemies, but still working its way upright— My body, a channel for the pure force of current, the hum-buzz of life that brought others to their knees— Life is full of pain, I had told Akos, trying to draw him back from depression. Your capacity for bearing it is greater than you believe. And I had been right. I had had every reason to become closed off, wrapped up tight, pushing everything that resembled life and growth and power as far away from myself as possible. It would have been easier that way, to refuse to let anything in. But I had let Akos in, trusting him when I had forgotten how to trust, and I had let Teka in, too, and maybe one day, Sifa— I would let anyone in who dared draw near. I was like the planet Ogra, which welcomed anyone and anything that could survive life close to it. Not because I deserved pain, and not because I was too strong to feel it, but because I was resilient enough to accept it as an inevitability.

Today, when I return home to the place in me where God dwells, I'm no longer interested in making it a quick visit so I can run back to the world of “what other people think” and “what I can get done.” Today, I can barely be dragged out of the house. I'm drawn to different conversations and deeper connections. I want this sacred space to be my home, not somewhere I visit to buttress my “real life” that's on the outside of my connection with God. I'm starting to wonder if my alga, my pain, is fueled by my separation from God and from my True Self.

I suffer deep pain that erodes my being. Despair, the quiet inner bully, causes this anguish. Hopelessness crushes my spirit, burying joy and purpose. It is a persistent force like a dark chasm that devours light and creates a void. My physical disabilities rob me of autonomy. Once a vessel of possibility, my body is now a prison, a constant reminder of my limits. The simplest things become punishing undertakings, with each attempt failing and fueled by fury and shame. The suffering permeates my soul and covers every aspect of my being. My continual emotional tiredness saps my drive to fight futility. The universe conspires to keep me from meaningful interaction. My hopes are now dashed in every endeavor. The cycle of boredom and insignificance repeats daily without substance or reprieve. Every time I see promise, overwhelming roadblocks block it, causing irritation and despair. An overwhelming sense of deficiency replaces any sense of contribution or worth. My once-proud goods are now worthless. Thus, I fight an unavoidable darkness in a never-ending combat that leaves me wounded, broken, and hopeless. Once a canvas of possibilities, the future is a dreary, uninspired continuation of existing suffering. In this terrifying terrain, sadness rules cruelly over my lifeless existence. I am experiencing deep emotional and physical pain, and I feel hopeless and stuck. My disabilities limit my autonomy, and everyday tasks are a constant struggle. I feel emotionally drained, and my efforts seem futile. I encounter roadblocks at every turn and struggle to find purpose. Overall, I feel trapped in a cycle of suffering and despair with no end in sight.

Life-paralysis refers to all of the opportunities we miss because we’re too afraid to put anything out in the world that could be imperfect. It’s also all of the dreams that we don’t follow because of our deep fear of failing, making mistakes, and disappointing others. It’s terrifying to risk when you’re a perfectionist; your self-worth is on the line. I put these three insights together to craft a definition of perfectionism (because you know how much I love to get words wrapped around my struggles!). It’s long, but man has it helped me! It’s also the “most requested” definition on my blog. Perfectionism is a self-destructive and addictive belief system that fuels this primary thought: If I look perfect, live perfectly, and do everything perfectly, I can avoid or minimize the painful feelings of shame, judgment, and blame. Perfectionism is self-destructive simply because there is no such thing as perfect. Perfection is an unattainable goal. Additionally, perfectionism is more about perception—we want to be perceived as perfect. Again, this is unattainable—there is no way to control perception, regardless of how much time and energy we spend trying. Perfectionism is addictive because when we invariably do experience shame, judgment, and blame, we often believe it’s because we weren’t perfect enough. So rather than questioning the faulty logic of perfectionism, we become even more entrenched in our quest to live, look, and do everything just right. Feeling shamed, judged, and blamed (and the fear of these feelings) are realities of the human experience. Perfectionism actually increases the odds that we’ll experience these painful emotions and often leads to self-blame: It’s my fault. I’m feeling this way because “I’m not good enough.” To overcome perfectionism, we need to be able to acknowledge our vulnerabilities to the universal experiences of shame, judgment, and blame; develop shame resilience; and practice self-compassion. When we become more loving and compassionate with ourselves and we begin to practice shame resilience, we can embrace our imperfections. It is in the process of embracing our imperfections that we find our truest gifts: courage, compassion, and connection.

I knew the way these guys operated; I'd seen it over and over again. They had a need to manipulate and dominate their prey. They wanted to be able to decide whether or not their victim should live or die, or how the victim should die. They'd keep me alive as long as my body would hold out, reviving me when I passed out or was close to death, always inflicting as much pain and suffering as possible. Some of them could go on for days like that. They wanted to show me they were in total control, that I was completely at their mercy. The more I cried out, the more I begged for relief, the more I would fuel and energize their dark fantasies. If I would plead for my life or regress or call out for my mommy or daddy, that would really get them off.

Second: I can use pain to become. I am here to keep becoming truer, more beautiful versions of myself again and again forever. To be alive is to be in a perpetual state of revolution. Whether I like it or not, pain is the fuel of revolution. Everything I need to become the woman I’m meant to be next is inside my feelings of now. Life is alchemy, and emotions are the fire that turns me to gold. I will continue to become only if I resist extinguishing myself a million times a day. If I can sit in the fire of my own feelings,

The human body is like a stock car. We may look different on the outside, but under the hood we all have huge reservoirs of potential and a governor impeding us from reaching our maximum velocity. In a car, the governor limits the flow of fuel and air so it doesn't burn too hot, which places a ceiling on performance. It's a hardware issue; the governor can easily be removed and if you disable yours, watch your car rocket beyond 130mph. It's a subtler process in the human animal. Our governor is buried deep in our minds, intertwined with our very identity. It knows what and who we love and hate; it's read our whole life story and forms the way we see ourselves and how we'd like to be seen. It's the software that delivers personalized feedback- in the form of pain and exhaustion, but also fear and insecurity, and it uses all of that to encourage us to stop before we risk it all. But, here's the thing, it doesn't have absolute control. Unlike the governor in an engine, ours can't stop us unless we buy into its bullshit and agree to quit. Sadly, most of us give up when we've only given around 40 percent of our maximum effort. Even when we feel like we've reached our absolute limit, we still have 60 percent more to give! That's the governor in action! Once you know that to be true, it's simply a matter of stretching your pain tolerance, letting go of your identity and all your self-limiting stories, so you can get to 60 percent, then 80 percent and beyond without giving up. I call this the 40% Rule, and the reason it's so powerful is that if you follow it, you will unlock your mind to new levels of performance and excellence in sports and in life, and your rewards will run far deeper than mere material success. p211

I was so stuck in my ways, my beliefs, my biases that I was determined to let no one persuade me out of them. Though I couldn’t be persuaded out of them, I couldn’t avoid the consequences of them, either. Drugs, sex, and partying had first been something I stumbled across, something I used to alleviate the dullness in life and the pain of loneliness. Now they were my god, my ultimate objective, my end goal. They were all that I lived for and they were the fuel that got me there. I was willing to risk my future for them.

AS I LAY THERE STARING AT THE CEILING, IT DAWNED ON ME THAT MAYBE MY GUITAR WAS THE LOVE OF MY LIFE AFTER ALL. Maybe I didn’t need Sandi. Maybe my Silvertone could help me heal my wounded heart. Maybe I could write my way out of this mess. I was more determined than ever to make this rock and roll dream come true. This is perhaps the impetus behind every song that I have ever written. Not to exact revenge on Sandi, of course, but to guard my most vulnerable corners by using heartbreak as fuel. What could be more inspiring than the exposed nerves of a wounded heart? In a way, I cherish my numerous heartbreaks almost more than the actual love that preceded them, because the heartbreak has always proven to me that I can feel. Trust me, the sweet sting of a love refused is powerful enough to send any scribe scrambling for pen and paper, aching to find beauty in the pain of being eighty-sixed by another. And more often than not, the result is good, because it’s real, and it fucking hurts so bad.

At stage 1, the relationship begins with passion. You hold your partner in high regard, praise them, give them all your attention and hope or expect them to do the same. You probably,and without realising it, inflate the positives and might feel like they are “the one.” As the relationship progresses to stage 2, you become more sensitive to words and actions that could possibly hold even the slightest hint of negativity. You may fixate on the smallest of things like a late reply to their text or a missed call, and begin to question their motives and interest. This comes from a place of anxiety, a fear of abandonment and low self-worth. The symptoms of BPD will start to flare up and interfere. At stage 3, the relationship can take on a different tone again. You might start testing out your partner,deliberately push them away or behave unacceptably .You might cause arguments for no reason just to see how willing they are to fight for the relationship. Stage 4 rolls around and you will start to distance yourself from the love of your life, letting the relationship spiral downward because at that point, you are convinced that they are going to leave you. This is really painful for you. You don’t want them to leave, and they don’t want to leave you either. When they express confusion, you will hide away your real feelings and pretend that everything is fine. Stage 5 may be where the relationship ends, especially if your partner isn't aware yet that you are Borderline or just what that means ie this is the playing out of symptoms and not what you really want. Borderlines experience intense mood swings, ranging from sadness at the loss of the relationship to anger against the other person. The fear of abandonment becomes a reality and it fuels your emotional lability. There may be attempts by them to resolve things but if the relationship is really over, then we’re at stage 6, where the Borderline might spiral downward and experience a bout of severe depression. They may give into their thoughts of low self-worth and even resort to reckless behaviors and self-harming to seek distraction and relief. If the relationship hasn’t ended, the cycle may start all over again. The occurrence of this cycle and its intensity depends on whether or not you are managing your illness by seeking professional help, and if you have other sources of emotional support. The BPD cycle is not a sure thing to happen for people that have or know someone with BPD, nor is it an official symptom of the condition. However it is really very common and even if not officially a symptom ,it is symptomatic. The idea that people with BPD cannot ‘hold down’ relationships, however, is a misconception and as a matter of fact, many people with BPD do have healthy and successful relationships, especially if they have been in, or are going through therapy. Because of the intensity of their emotions ,Borderlines can be the most loving, caring empathic and fun partners. 6 “SOMEONE…HELP ME, PLEASE.” - DIALECTICAL BEHAVIOR THERAPY “I just got diagnosed.

THIS IS NOT THE END I HEARD A STORY once about a one-year-old boy who fell down a flight of stairs, shattering his back in the process. He spent his entire childhood and his teenage years in and out of the hospital. To many people, his story was one of heartbreaking tragedy. But when he was interviewed one day, the boy said something that stunned people. “God is fair,” he said. “How old are you?” asked the man who was interviewing him. “Seventeen.” “And how many years have you spent in the hospital?” “Thirteen.” “Do you think that is fair?” said the interviewer. The boy paused and smiled. “God has got all of eternity to make it up to me.” This brave young man saw beyond his current suffering. Suffering is not part of God’s original created order. There was no suffering when the world began, and there will be no suffering when God creates a new heaven and a new earth (Revelation 21:3–4). “He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death” or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away. (v. 4) Understanding this gives us the most amazing perspective on our life and any hardships we encounter today. Understanding where we’re going helps us persevere when times are tough. This is not the end, so hold tight, and all will be renewed. Trust the long game.

Big Log" My love is in league with the freeway Its passion will ride, as the cities fly by And the taillights dissolve, in the coming of night And the questions in thousands take flight My love is the miles and the waiting The eyes that just stare, and the glance at the clock And the secret that burns, and the pain that won't stop And its fuel is the years Leading me on – leading me down the road Driving beyond – driving me down the road My love is exceeding the limit Red-eyed and fevered with the hum of the miles Distance and longing, my thoughts do collide Should I rest for a while at the side Your love is cradled in knowing Eyes in the mirror, still expecting they'll come Sensing too well when the journey is done There is no turning back – no There is no turning back – on the run My love is in league with the freeway Oh the freeway, and the coming of night-time My love My love is in league with the freeway Robert Plant, The Principle Of Moments (1983)

will you ever forget answers can vary will you always be the pain that will never go away my presence never seemed enough yours was more than that but darling i really loved you i still carry your photograph in my card holder with the old cinema coupons and the money i used to spend with you i'm running out of fuel, aren't i and you're out of time, aren't you let's be nothing at least it lasts forever at least you were forever to me and i was "at least" to you

I’ve always used pain to fuel my anger, to keep myself going. It washes over me, burning and biting, and I swallow it down. It ignites something in me. Something merciless. Determined. Unstoppable.

As a stay-at-home dad and a farmer in Kentucky, my primary focus has always been on nurturing my family and managing our land. When Bitcoin began to gain traction, I saw it as a potential opportunity to secure our financial future. With my wife encouragement, I decided to invest $10,000 from our savings into cryptocurrency. Over time, my investment flourished beyond my wildest dreams, eventually soaring to an astonishing $200,000. Just as I began to feel a sense of financial security, disaster struck. In a shocking act of betrayal fueled by jealousy, my wife hacked into my email and gained access to my Bitcoin wallet. The devastation I felt was overwhelming years of careful planning and smart investing were wiped out in an instant. I was left feeling helpless and uncertain, grappling with the fear that I might never recover what I had lost. In the midst of this turmoil, a close friend reached out to me and mentioned RAPID DIGITAL RECOVERY. Desperate for a solution but still holding onto a glimmer of hope, I contacted them,.. WhatSapp: +1 4 14 80 71 4 85.. praying for a lifeline. Their team responded promptly, providing both reassurance and a clear plan of action. With remarkable expertise, they tracked down the digital footprints left by the theft and successfully recovered a substantial portion of my stolen funds. But their assistance didn’t end there. Understanding the vulnerability I felt after such a betrayal, they also offered invaluable advice on how to strengthen my digital security to prevent future breaches. Their support was not just technical; it was a source of empowerment that helped me regain my confidence and sense of control over my financial situation. While the betrayal was a painful lesson, it ultimately taught me resilience and the importance of safeguarding my assets. Thanks to RAPID DIGITAL RECOVERY, I didn’t just reclaim my lost Bitcoin; I also regained my peace of mind. This experience has transformed my perspective on both trust and security in the digital age. I now approach investments with a renewed sense of caution and awareness, ensuring that I protect not only my financial future but also my emotional well-being. The journey has been challenging, but it has also been a testament to my strength and determination to rise above adversity as I continue to balance my roles as a dad and a farmer. Email Info: rapiddigitalrecovery(@)execs. com Telegram Info: @Rapiddigitalrecovery1

WAHLS WARRIORS SPEAK In August 2012, I was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis. The symptoms came on suddenly: tingling and numbness in my right arm and right and left hands, bladder urgency, cognitive issues and brain fog, lower back pain, and right-foot drop. One Saturday, I was playing golf, and by the next Friday, I was using a cane to walk. I was scared and I did not know what was happening. I was started on a five-day treatment of IV steroids. I began physical and occupational therapy, and speech therapy to assist with my word-finding issues. Desperate, I searched the Internet and read as much as I could about multiple sclerosis. I tried to discuss diet with my neurologist because I read that people with autoimmune diseases may benefit from going gluten-free. My neurologist recommended that I stick with my “balanced” diet because gluten-free may be a fad and it was difficult to do. In October 2012, I went to a holistic practitioner who recommended that I eliminate gluten, dairy, and eggs from my diet and then take an allergy test. About that time, I discovered Dr. Wahls, whose story provided me hope. I began to incorporate the 9 cups of produce and to eat organic lean meat, lots of wild fish, seaweed, and some organ meat (though I still struggle with that). My allergy tests came back and, sure enough, I was highly sensitive to gluten, dairy, eggs, soy, and almonds. This test further validated Dr. Wahls’s work. By eliminating highly inflammatory foods and replacing them with vegetables, lean meat, and seaweed, your body can heal. It’s been four months since I started the Wahls Diet, and I’ve increased my vitamin D levels from 17 to 52, my medicine has been reduced, and I have lost 14 pounds. I now exercise and run two miles several times per week, walk three miles a day, bike, swim, strength train, meditate, and stretch daily. I prepare smoothies and real meals in my kitchen. Gone are the days of eating out or ordering takeout three to four times a week. By eating this way, my energy levels have increased, my brain fog and stumbling over words has been eliminated, my skin looks great, and I am more alert and present. It is not easy eating this way, and my family has also had to make some adjustments, but, in the end, I choose health. I am more in tune with my body and I feed it the fuel it needs to thrive. —Michelle M., Baltimore, Maryland

Few people try, because few people dare. And most don’t want to give up on the easy. Think of your favorite sports star. Let me tell you, they spent every waking moment of their teenage years in the gym, pounding pavements or knocking a ball against a wall. You just don’t get good at something unless you dedicate yourself to it. It’s not rocket science: the rewards go to the dogged. But sacrifice hurts, which is why so many take the easy option. But what most people don’t realize is that sacrifice also has power. Knowing that you have denied yourself something you wanted often means you put even more effort into achieving your goal. It’s the Yin for the Yang. I like to see sacrifice as a type of fuel that powers you towards your destination. The more you give up, then the more energy, time and focus you gain to commit to your goal. It’s never easy to make sacrifices, especially when you know they are going to hurt. But I would encourage you to choose the option that will make you proud. There is a great line in the poem ‘The Road Not Taken’ by Robert Frost that says: ‘I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference.’ Do you want to make a difference? Do you want to be one of the few or the many? If you want to achieve something special, then you have to choose a path that most won’t dare to tread. That can be scary; but exciting. And there will be a cost. Count it. Weigh it. Are you really prepared to pay the price? The sacrifice? Remember this: Pain is transitory; pride endures for ever.

My good heart and empathetic personality were assumed by many as a weakness. I was unwarily and widely opening doors to my sponge-like heart for people with a strict intent to take advantage of me. I was considered naive and gullible. My charitable practices caused me more pains and heartaches than a long expected feeling of joy, fulfillment, and satisfaction. Dealing with constant depreciation, disrespect, and in few cases even abused, I was being left feeling wronged and victimized. Such treatment sent me into a low-vibration state of mind and ever since I have been attracting and letting all the wrong and toxic people in to my life. In the effect, inadvertently and totally unconsciously, I neglected and deprived myself from having what I deserved best: - true and unconditional love, respect and gratitude. By constantly placing me at "second place”, I depleted myself from positive energy, neglected my own life; its desires, needs, and ended up running on empty. I started losing touch with my own creative inspiration, and my artistic originality suffered a great deal. I started noticing that I was left with no fuel to properly nourish my own body, soul and mind. It is time for me to take charge of my life, place myself first before anyone else, let go of all the “wolfs in sheep’s garment”, and rebuild my dwindling self-esteem. It is time for me to heal and rebuild my essence, give myself proper love, balanced nutrition and attention, and feel again that strong desire to live my life to the fullest. It is time for me to reconstitute, refocus and re-center in order to achieve a blissful feeling of inner peace. I understand that this new development may disappoint some of my "friends" and associates who are used to my giving nature. They will have to accept my transformation given that I cannot go on with my life running on empty, especially since most of my actions remain usually non-reciprocated. It is time for Alex to finally be able to distinguish between those that are really in need and those that are just pure pococurante parasites or scavengers, always expecting of me to cater to their every single need. It is time for me to say "no" to those who under false pretenses entered my sensitive and charitable heart only to take advantage of it and who are always taking but never giving.

For a field that’s ostensibly all about pleasure, the current generation of sommeliers, or “somms,” puts themselves through an astonishing amount of pain. They work

You left me,” he said tersely, his gaze unwavering on her. She exhaled. “I am sorry. I am sorry for borrowing your ship, and I—” “You left me after the night we shared.” She tried not to think about being in his arms, when he had seemed to love her as much as she loved him. “I told you that morning what I intended. The time we shared didn’t change anything.” She saw him flinch. “It was wonderful, but I meant it when I said I had to go home. I know you are angry. I know I took the coward’s way, and I shouldn’t have conned Mac—” “I don’t care about the ship!” he cried, stunning her. “I am glad you took my frigate—at least you would be safe from rovers. Damn it! I made love to you and you left me!” She hugged herself harder, trying to ignore that painful figure of speech. “I knew you would want to marry me, Cliff, for all the wrong reasons. How could I accept that? The night we spent together only fueled my desire to leave.” “For all the wrong reasons? Our passion fueled your desire to leave me?” “You misunderstand me,” she cried. “I do not want to hurt you. But you ruined me, you would decide to marry me. Honor is not the right reason, not for me.” He stepped closer, his gaze piercing. “Do you even know my reasons, Amanda?” “Yes, I do.” Somehow she tilted up her chin, yet she felt tears falling. “You are the most honorable man I have ever met. I know my letter hardly stated the depth of my feelings, but after all you have done, and all your family has done, you must surely know that leaving you was very difficult.” “The depth of your feelings,” he said. His nostrils flared, his gaze brilliant. “Do you refer to the friendship you wish to maintain—your affection for me?” He was cold and sarcastic, taking a final step toward her. He towered over her now. She wanted to step backward, away from him, but she held her ground. “I didn’t think you would wish to continue our friendship. But it is so important to me. I will beg you to forgive me so we can remain dear friends.” “I don’t want to be a dear friend,” he said harshly. “And goddamn it, do not tell me you felt as a friend does when you were in my bed!” She stiffened. “That’s not fair.” “You left me. That’s not fair,” he shot back, giving no quarter. “After all you have done, it wasn’t fair, I agree completely. But I was desperate.” He shook his head. “I will never believe you are desperate to be a shopkeeper. And what woman is truly independent? Only a spinster or a widow. You are neither.” Slowly, hating her words, she said, “I had planned on the former.” “Like hell,” he spat. She accepted the dread filling her then. “You despise me now.” “Are you truly so ignorant, so oblivious? How on earth could I ever despise you?” he exclaimed, leaning closer. “Would I be standing here demanding marriage if I despised you?” She started. Her heart skipped wildly; she tried to ignore it. She whispered, “Why did you really pursue me?” “I am a de Warenne,” he said, straightening. “As my father said so recently, there is no stopping us, not if it is a question of love.

I’m not suggesting you crawl up your own ass and bore your friends with all your stories about what a badass you used to be. Nobody wants to hear that shit. I’m talking about utilizing past successes to fuel you to new and bigger ones. Because in the heat of battle, when shit gets real, we need to draw inspiration to push through our own exhaustion, depression, pain, and misery. We need to spark a bunch of small fires to become the motherfucking inferno.

My Unexpectedly Smooth Journey on the Agra Etawah Toll Road Project From Heritage to Highways: Agra to Etawah in Style I’ve always believed that the journey matters just as much as the destination. So when I planned a quick drive from Agra—after soaking in the glory of the Taj Mahal—I decided to take the Agra Etawah Toll Road for the very first time. To be honest, I wasn’t expecting much. Indian highways are usually hit-or-miss. But from the moment I entered the toll gate, I knew I was in for a very different kind of ride. A World-Class Highway in the Heart of Uttar Pradesh The Agra Etawah Toll Road Project is a marvel. I cruised effortlessly on a six-lane expressway, flanked by proper barriers, clear signboards, and smooth curves. No bumps, no chaotic junctions—just uninterrupted driving bliss. And the best part? You’re not just saving time—you’re actually enjoying the drive. Wide open stretches, with views of the countryside rolling by, made me forget I was just on a basic intercity trip. #BestHighwayInfrastructure Safe, Smart, and Scenic Everything about this road screams planning. I noticed SOS booths, speed-monitoring cameras, and regular exit points, which give you peace of mind, especially when traveling solo like I was. The roadside amenities were decent too—fuel stations, food stalls, and shaded rest zones at reasonable intervals. No stress, no guessing games—just a safe, smart journey. #ModernRoadMakers Talking with Locals: Real Benefits on the Ground I stopped at a chai stall near the highway and chatted with a few truck drivers. One of them told me that what used to be a painfully long and unpredictable trip has now become a reliable daily route. For transporters, locals, and travelers like me—it’s a win-win. This road doesn’t just connect cities. It connects lives, businesses, and opportunities. A Road Worth Remembering By the time I reached Etawah, I wasn’t tired—I was impressed. The Agra Etawah Toll Road Project felt like the kind of infrastructure India has been waiting for. For those who love the open road, this one’s a gem. Don’t think of it as just another toll road—think of it as a glimpse into India’s bright and well-paved future. #India'sBestHighwayInfrastructure

In April, I made a significant purchase that I believed would enhance my collection as a devoted BTS fan and digital art enthusiast. I stumbled upon a marketplace that advertised exclusive, limited edition BTS-themed NFTs. The excitement was palpable; the listing claimed these NFTs were authentic and one-of-a-kind. Without a second thought, I invested 12 ETH, convinced I was acquiring something truly special my enthusiasm soon turned to doubt. As I examined the images more closely, they didn’t resemble the official BTS NFT releases I had seen previously. I began to notice discrepancies that raised red flags. Discussions in online fan groups further fueled my concerns, with some members suggesting that the NFTs I purchased might be counterfeit copies. This unsettling realization prompted me to seek assistance from FUNDS RECLAIMER COMPANY. In my search for help, I discovered FUNDS RECLAIMER COMPANY, a company dedicated to assisting individuals who have fallen victim to NFT scams. I reached out to FUNDS RECLAIMER COMPANY and provided all the details regarding my purchase. Their team acted swiftly, launching an investigation into the NFTs I had acquired. To my dismay, FUNDS RECLAIMER COMPANY confirmed my fears: the NFTs were indeed copies, not the exclusive BTS NFTs I had been led to believe I was buying. Someone had taken the original artwork and sold it under false pretenses. FUNDS RECLAIMER COMPANY didn’t stop at merely confirming the fraud; they diligently gathered evidence and engaged with the marketplace to advocate on my behalf. After extensive negotiations, FUNDS RECLAIMER COMPANY managed to secure a refund of 9 ETH from the total I had spent. While losing 3 ETH was still a painful blow, I felt a wave of relief wash over me knowing that I had recovered the majority of my investment, thanks to the expertise of FUNDS RECLAIMER COMPANY. This has highlighted the reality that scammers can create convincing fake NFTs that are difficult to distinguish from the real thing. Without the intervention of professionals like FUNDS RECLAIMER COMPANY, it’s all too easy to fall victim to such schemes. As I keep supporting BTS and delving into the realm of NFTs, I've adopted a more careful strategy. I focus on conducting in-depth research and only interact with reputable sellers and platforms. If I ever have any reservations about a purchase, I won't hesitate to reach out to FUNDS RECLAIMER COMPANY or similar professionals. My journey has highlighted the necessity of being vigilant in the constantly changing digital art scene, and I appreciate the assistance from FUNDS RECLAIMER COMPANY in this recovery process. CONTACT INFORMATION BELOW: Telegram:: @fundsreclaimercompany0 Email: fundsreclaimercompany@zohomail.com WhatsApp:: + 1 3 6 1 2 5 0 4 1 1 0

My Unexpectedly Smooth Journey on the Agra Etawah Toll Road Project From Heritage to Highways: Agra to Etawah in Style I’ve always believed that the journey matters just as much as the destination. So when I planned a quick drive from Agra—after soaking in the glory of the Taj Mahal—I decided to take the Agra Etawah Toll Road for the very first time. To be honest, I wasn’t expecting much. Indian highways are usually hit-or-miss. But from the moment I entered the toll gate, I knew I was in for a very different kind of ride. A World-Class Highway in the Heart of Uttar Pradesh The Agra Etawah Toll Road Project is a marvel. I cruised effortlessly on a six-lane expressway, flanked by proper barriers, clear signboards, and smooth curves. No bumps, no chaotic junctions—just uninterrupted driving bliss. And the best part? You’re not just saving time—you’re actually enjoying the drive. Wide open stretches, with views of the countryside rolling by, made me forget I was just on a basic intercity trip. #BestHighwayInfrastructure Safe, Smart, and Scenic Everything about this road screams planning. I noticed SOS booths, speed-monitoring cameras, and regular exit points, which give you peace of mind, especially when traveling solo like I was. The roadside amenities were decent too—fuel stations, food stalls, and shaded rest zones at reasonable intervals. No stress, no guessing games—just a safe, smart journey. #ModernRoadMakers Talking with Locals: Real Benefits on the Ground I stopped at a chai stall near the highway and chatted with a few truck drivers. One of them told me that what used to be a painfully long and unpredictable trip has now become a reliable daily route. For transporters, locals, and travelers like me—it’s a win-win. This road doesn’t just connect cities. It connects lives, businesses, and opportunities. A Road Worth Remembering By the time I reached Etawah, I wasn’t tired—I was impressed. The Agra Etawah Toll Road Project felt like the kind of infrastructure India has been waiting for. For those who love the open road, this one’s a gem. Don’t think of it as just another toll road—think of it as a glimpse into India’s bright and well-paved future. #India'sBestHighwayInfrastructure

What I realized eventually is that the fantasy that fueled my twenties? I’d needed that. We all do. I needed to feel like the invincible heroine in a silk headscarf fighting off evil questions about why I hadn’t found a man. As the years stacked up, I had dreamt up another fantasy to pull me through the next decade. This one filled with babies and momming so hard. And now that picture needed some serious retouching, somehow reconciling it with the old ones. To really confront who I was as a mother, a Black mother, I’d have to give birth yet again. The emotional labor pains were the worst but my authentic self was in there somewhere.

It all began innocently enough, with the allure of quick gains and financial freedom beckoning me into the world of cryptocurrency investments. Little did I know, this journey would lead me down a path of deceit and betrayal. On the first of last month, I took the plunge and invested $3000 in USDT, hoping to see my money grow. To my delight, by the 15th of the month, I received a withdrawal of $10,000, fueling my excitement and confidence in the investment platform. With newfound optimism, I decided to up the ante, investing $50,000 with the expectation of reaping even greater returns. However, as the withdrawal deadline approached, reality came crashing down around me. It became painfully clear that I had been duped, lured in by promises of riches that were nothing but empty lies. My hard-earned money was gone, vanished into the digital abyss, and I was left reeling from the betrayal. Determined to reclaim what was rightfully mine, I embarked on a journey of seeking recovery experts who could help me navigate the treacherous waters of online fraud. Yet, at every turn, I encountered charlatans and impostors, preying on the vulnerability of those who had been deceived. It was in my darkest hour that I stumbled upon a glimmer of hope – a review praising the commendable work of HACKATHON TECH SOLUTION, a team of ethical hackers dedicated to righting the wrongs of cybercrime. With nothing left to lose, I placed my trust in their capable hands, praying for a miracle. And miraculously, a miracle is what I received. HACKATHON TECH SOLUTION not only delivered on their promise but exceeded all expectations, successfully recovering my lost funds with a level of expertise and professionalism that left me in awe. In return for their invaluable service, they requested a modest 10% fee, a small price to pay for the restoration of my financial security. Thanks to the unwavering dedication of HACKATHON TECH SOLUTION, I am once again standing on solid ground, free from the shackles of financial fraud. My faith in humanity has been restored, and while the scars of my ordeal may linger, they serve as a solemn reminder to tread carefully in the digital realm. To anyone who finds themselves in a similar predicament, I urge you not to lose hope. Reach out to HACKATHON TECH SOLUTION and take the first step towards reclaiming what is rightfully yours. In a world fraught with deception, they are a beacon of light, guiding you towards justice and resolution. Trust in HACKATHON TECH SOLUTION– your ally in the fight against cybercrime .Consult HACKATHON TECH SOLUTION via below contact details. W h a t s a p p :‪‪‪‪ ‪‪‪‪+31 (6 47) 999-256‬‬‬‬ Telegram: ‪ ‪‪‪‪+1(659) 217-9239‬‬‬‬ Email: hackathon tech service @ mail . com ‬‬

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My Unexpectedly Smooth Journey on the Agra Etawah Toll Road Project From Heritage to Highways: Agra to Etawah in Style I’ve always believed that the journey matters just as much as the destination. So when I planned a quick drive from Agra—after soaking in the glory of the Taj Mahal—I decided to take the Agra Etawah Toll Road for the very first time. To be honest, I wasn’t expecting much. Indian highways are usually hit-or-miss. But from the moment I entered the toll gate, I knew I was in for a very different kind of ride. A World-Class Highway in the Heart of Uttar Pradesh The Agra Etawah Toll Road Project is a marvel. I cruised effortlessly on a six-lane expressway, flanked by proper barriers, clear signboards, and smooth curves. No bumps, no chaotic junctions—just uninterrupted driving bliss. And the best part? You’re not just saving time—you’re actually enjoying the drive. Wide open stretches, with views of the countryside rolling by, made me forget I was just on a basic intercity trip. #BestHighwayInfrastructure Safe, Smart, and Scenic Everything about this road screams planning. I noticed SOS booths, speed-monitoring cameras, and regular exit points, which give you peace of mind, especially when traveling solo like I was. The roadside amenities were decent too—fuel stations, food stalls, and shaded rest zones at reasonable intervals. No stress, no guessing games—just a safe, smart journey. #ModernRoadMakers Talking with Locals: Real Benefits on the Ground I stopped at a chai stall near the highway and chatted with a few truck drivers. One of them told me that what used to be a painfully long and unpredictable trip has now become a reliable daily route. For transporters, locals, and travelers like me—it’s a win-win. This road doesn’t just connect cities. It connects lives, businesses, and opportunities. A Road Worth Remembering By the time I reached Etawah, I wasn’t tired—I was impressed. The Agra Etawah Toll Road Project felt like the kind of infrastructure India has been waiting for. For those who love the open road, this one’s a gem. Don’t think of it as just another toll road—think of it as a glimpse into India’s bright and well-paved future. #India'sBestHighwayInfrastructure

My Unexpectedly Smooth Journey on the Agra Etawah Toll Road Project From Heritage to Highways: Agra to Etawah in Style I’ve always believed that the journey matters just as much as the destination. So when I planned a quick drive from Agra—after soaking in the glory of the Taj Mahal—I decided to take the Agra Etawah Toll Road for the very first time. To be honest, I wasn’t expecting much. Indian highways are usually hit-or-miss. But from the moment I entered the toll gate, I knew I was in for a very different kind of ride. A World-Class Highway in the Heart of Uttar Pradesh The Agra Etawah Toll Road Project is a marvel. I cruised effortlessly on a six-lane expressway, flanked by proper barriers, clear signboards, and smooth curves. No bumps, no chaotic junctions—just uninterrupted driving bliss. And the best part? You’re not just saving time—you’re actually enjoying the drive. Wide open stretches, with views of the countryside rolling by, made me forget I was just on a basic intercity trip. #BestHighwayInfrastructure Safe, Smart, and Scenic Everything about this road screams planning. I noticed SOS booths, speed-monitoring cameras, and regular exit points, which give you peace of mind, especially when traveling solo like I was. The roadside amenities were decent too—fuel stations, food stalls, and shaded rest zones at reasonable intervals. No stress, no guessing games—just a safe, smart journey. #ModernRoadMakers Talking with Locals: Real Benefits on the Ground I stopped at a chai stall near the highway and chatted with a few truck drivers. One of them told me that what used to be a painfully long and unpredictable trip has now become a reliable daily route. For transporters, locals, and travelers like me—it’s a win-win. This road doesn’t just connect cities. It connects lives, businesses, and opportunities. A Road Worth Remembering By the time I reached Etawah, I wasn’t tired—I was impressed. The Agra Etawah Toll Road Project felt like the kind of infrastructure India has been waiting for. For those who love the open road, this one’s a gem. Don’t think of it as just another toll road—think of it as a glimpse into India’s bright and well-paved future. #India'sBestHighwayInfrastructure

My Unexpectedly Smooth Journey on the Agra Etawah Toll Road Project From Heritage to Highways: Agra to Etawah in Style I’ve always believed that the journey matters just as much as the destination. So when I planned a quick drive from Agra—after soaking in the glory of the Taj Mahal—I decided to take the Agra Etawah Toll Road for the very first time. To be honest, I wasn’t expecting much. Indian highways are usually hit-or-miss. But from the moment I entered the toll gate, I knew I was in for a very different kind of ride. A World-Class Highway in the Heart of Uttar Pradesh The Agra Etawah Toll Road Project is a marvel. I cruised effortlessly on a six-lane expressway, flanked by proper barriers, clear signboards, and smooth curves. No bumps, no chaotic junctions—just uninterrupted driving bliss. And the best part? You’re not just saving time—you’re actually enjoying the drive. Wide open stretches, with views of the countryside rolling by, made me forget I was just on a basic intercity trip. #BestHighwayInfrastructure Safe, Smart, and Scenic Everything about this road screams planning. I noticed SOS booths, speed-monitoring cameras, and regular exit points, which give you peace of mind, especially when traveling solo like I was. The roadside amenities were decent too—fuel stations, food stalls, and shaded rest zones at reasonable intervals. No stress, no guessing games—just a safe, smart journey. #ModernRoadMakers Talking with Locals: Real Benefits on the Ground I stopped at a chai stall near the highway and chatted with a few truck drivers. One of them told me that what used to be a painfully long and unpredictable trip has now become a reliable daily route. For transporters, locals, and travelers like me—it’s a win-win. This road doesn’t just connect cities. It connects lives, businesses, and opportunities. A Road Worth Remembering By the time I reached Etawah, I wasn’t tired—I was impressed. The Agra Etawah Toll Road Project felt like the kind of infrastructure India has been waiting for. For those who love the open road, this one’s a gem. Don’t think of it as just another toll road—think of it as a glimpse into India’s bright and well-paved future. #IndiasBestHighwayInfrastructure

They told us we were man’s only hope,” I say quietly. “That Earth was overcrowded, that all the pain, all the sacrifice, was for mankind. Sacrifice is good. Obedience the highest virtue …” The laughing Gold has reached the nearby spire; he surrenders to the girls and their kisses. Soon they will drink their wine and have their amusement. Dancer tells me how it is. “Earth ain’t overcrowded, Darrow. Seven hundred years back, they expanded to their moon, Luna. Because it is so difficult to launch spacecraft through Earth’s gravity and atmosphere, Luna became Earth’s port through which it colonized the moons and planets of the Solar System.” “Seven hundred years?” I gasp, feeling suddenly very stupid. “On Luna, efficiency and order became the chief concern. In space, every set of lungs must have a purpose. So the first Colors were gradually instituted and the Reds were sent to Mars to gather the fuel for mankind. The mining colonies were established there since Mars has the highest concentration of helium-3, which is used to terraform the other worlds and moons.” At least that wasn’t a lie. “Are they terraformed, the other moons and worlds?” “The small moons, yes. Most of the planets. Obviously not the gas giants.” He sits in a chair. “It was in the early stages of the Colonization when the wealthy of Luna began to realize Earth was nothing more than a drain on their profits. Even as Luna colonized the Solar System, they

A primal sound escaped her when she felt the hard length of him pressed to her belly. Then an almost painful clench of desire flooded her when she closed her hand over him and felt him grow even bigger. After all the starts and stops, the interruptions, she wanted him inside her now. The need was too great to delay with foreplay. “Take me. Don’t wait,” she got out in a ragged voice once he freed her lips to trail his devastating mouth down her neck. His fingers found her depths in the next moment, making her cry out at the sizzle of sensation. He stroked her far more slowly than she did him, her faster rhythm wringing deep, throaty groans out of Mencheres that spiked her lust. “You are not ready yet. I would hurt you,” he rasped. She felt his need as if it were a living thing trying to claw its way out of him. The intensity, the overwhelming force of his desire fueled her impatience. Yes, that was how she felt. Like she’d die if he wasn’t inside her right now. “Wanting you hurts even more,” Kira choked.

You're not God — you don’t see my heart. Wounded doesn’t mean unforgiving. Pain isn’t hate. So before you judge, ask yourself: Were you the one fueling the fire? Because if you lit the match, don’t act holy just because you're watching me burn.

Be careful who you call unforgiving. You're not God — you don’t see my heart. Pain isn’t hate. Wounds don’t mean I haven't forgiven. So before you judge, ask yourself: were you the one fueling the fire? Because if you lit the match, don’t stand there acting holy just because you're watching me burn. One day, the smoke will rise — and it won’t be from me.

Fresh pain fueled me. I snatched the knife out of his hand and threw it to the floor. His fist caught me in the temple, and everything went sideways. But I didn’t crumple. I didn’t fall or beg or cry. I snapped. I wouldn’t stop until he fell. Until he begged, he cried. Like father, like son.