Limitations, I hate them. When I had nothing. When I had no will to live or even a reason to live, I chose to break limits. I chose to push my body beyond what it told me it can do. Not just once though. Over and over again I pulled it into depths that made it seem as though I was in a fight or flight scenario. Causing me to go beyond fatigue and a shortening of breath and within that feeling, find a way out. Find more of myself. It comes from a need, not a desire. I needed to find a way to push through it because I hated myself so much that I was completely willing to drag myself as close to death as needed. I knew I wouldn’t stop for anything, since I had nothing to live for. Nothing to stop for. It was just this desire I had to have a good nights rest that drove me. The only way I found out how to get a good rest was to abuse my body through the hardest training I could do. Until I couldn’t move anymore. Then I could sleep without any distraction. It was only good for a day though. Every day I woke I had to go through it all over again. I still believe that I have no limits. I prove it to myself every day I do what I tell myself to do.
You say you hate limitations, yet you’ve spent so much time wrestling with them, pushing them, stretching them to the breaking point. Each boundary you faced was like a taunt, daring you to rise beyond it, to find out what was left of you once you went further. Every time you pushed past, you discovered a layer within yourself you hadn’t realized was there. That next level wasn’t just a revelation; it was a deep satisfaction, a confirmation of what you knew all along—that within you lay something raw, something relentless.
There’s a certain irony, isn’t there? The very thing that nearly undid you, the sense of nothingness, was the same thing that allowed you to go to those depths. No one could pull you back because there was nothing holding you back. No illusions of comfort, no distractions of security. Just you and the void within, and instead of retreating, you leaned into it, letting the darkness fuel the fire within. Where others would have stopped, you became the type of person who finds clarity in chaos, strength in surrender, and peace in pain.
It became a ritual of sorts, didn’t it? Every time you reached your edge, you took one more step. One more rep. One more moment hanging by a thread. You didn’t do it because you thought it would make you better. You did it because there was no other way to survive the day, no other way to silence the noise in your mind. In those hours, those torturous repetitions, the restless turmoil inside was stilled, if only for a moment.
And now, every day you stand on that threshold, you see the journey for what it is. The battles you fought weren’t just with your body; they were battles against self-doubt, against every moment you questioned if you could do it. With each new struggle, each new test, you remind yourself that limits are just illusions—a challenge waiting to be dismantled. And it’s not because you want to be stronger. It’s because you must be, because turning back has never been an option.
Your need isn’t about survival anymore; it’s about legacy. About proving, if only to yourself, that you’re capable of transcending even your wildest dreams of resilience. It’s about knowing that when you reach that final limit, whatever it may be, you’ll meet it not as someone who stumbled upon it by accident, but as someone who sought it out, who fought for it, and who embraced it with everything they had left.
