Nothing seems to go right. You’ve been out eight times the past month and have only gotten two numbers. Neither girl called you back. You don’t remember the last time you kissed a girl, fucked a girl. It seems like none of them want to have anything to do with you, and you don’t know what you’re doing wrong. You’re lonely and dying for any sort of female companionship. You think maybe it’s not in you to be good with women. You’re not good looking enough, funny enough, rich enough, witty enough. Every other guy is better than you, and you wonder if you’re ever going to get laid again. You can’t even look at couples holding hands in public anymore without feeling depressed. It’s Friday night, and you don’t even have a friend to go out with.
Take a shower, put on your clothes, hit the bar, and just keep going.
Months ago you started a new business, but it’s not doing so well. It’s bleeding cash and you’re living with your parents, barely surviving. The business refuses to pop. You already sold your car and your main mode of transportation is the bike you had in college over ten years ago. In the rare chance you make it out at night you have no choice but to steal the occasional drink or two because you can’t afford your own. You see other guys your age with fancy cars and clothes, and feel ashamed that you have to watch every dollar and cook ramen noodles five times a week. A friend hands you a beaten-up book on sales, one of your biggest business weaknesses.
Crack open the book, take notes, write out a plan, and just keep going.
For a year you planned out this grand voyage around the world, but you’ve been dealt hardship, illness, and stupid problems one after the other. It seems like you’re bedridden half the time and the love you thought you had for experiencing exotic places has been replaced by constant thoughts of returning home. You’re unable to communicate with the natives and are having trouble making friends. Cultural differences are greater then you had imagined and you’re tired of being ripped off by everyone who sees you as nothing more than a wallet. Everyone back at home seems to be having a better time than you, and now you have doubts about your decision. But you know how lucky you are for being able to do what you’re doing, and a fellow traveler told you about a city somewhat nearby that has the things you’re looking for.
Pack your bags, go to the train station, and just keep going.
Until you think you’re putting your life in danger, just keep going. Until you have proved to yourself that you are stronger than everyone else who has attempted what you’re attempting, just keep going. Until your being is completely shattered and you’re on the verge of an emotional breakdown, just keep going. Until you’ve reached your absolute physical, human limit, until you’ve squeezed every drop of value out of the fruit you’re chasing, and until you are certain without a single doubt in the universe that absolutely nothing positive or worthy can come from what you’re doing, just keep going.
Do not stop. Just keep going.