"Experience is a trophy

forged from all the weapons

that have wounded us."

— Marcus Aurelius

🩸

Observe how one who has suffered greatly walks with the calm of a veteran; in his countenance, the serenity of a wolf intimately familiar with every trap that could have killed him. No man becomes wise without first being torn apart by fate, for it is in the nature of things that the deepest understanding is born from the most excruciating wounds. Thus, the progress of our species is made.

Every defeat we suffer is an inscription in bronze—though written with tears, it later becomes a guide for untested paths.

Each blow that once made us bleed now shines upon our mantle of maturity, turning past afflictions into emblems of sovereignty that command respect today.

The weapons that once wounded our flesh no longer threaten us, for we have gathered them, piece by piece, into a living fortress—an obelisk of shards and blades, whose sharp edges return pain to any who dare strike against it.

Thus, what we call experience and maturity is nothing more than a sacred reliquary of cauterized wounds, where every strike that failed to kill us now rests as a quiet trophy of our journey through the valley of shadows.

Thank you for reading, my friend!

If this message resonated with you in any way, consider leaving your glass “🥃” as a token of appreciation.

A toast to our family!