In my ongoing quest to be the finest version of me that I can be, I have always put a great deal of pressure on myself.

According to many I put too much pressure on myself; according to others just enough to be considered adequate.

Here’s the thing about that: as much pressure as I do apply; much as I am never satisfied with my own efforts unless the results reach towards the upper echelons of greatness, and as much as I am happy to do that, fair to say it is probably killing me before my time.

It would’ve been fine, I mean I’m sure I would have been free to exert as much load on my tenuous frame and eccentric mind as I wished had I reached the age of 18 as a fit, healthy and able bodied young man; alas odds of that nature over the years have seldom gone my way.

Here I now sit as a 32-year-old, middle-aged, permanently brain-damaged, increasingly idiosyncratic man whose mind – aside from those first couple of hours in the morning, also throughout and for a few hours after exercise – constantly feels about as congested as it would under the influence of a ripping great head-cold.

Suffice to say following the early morning flourish along with the odd burst during the course, much of the day is spent with eyes closed simply, convalescing which when you think about it, is pretty lame.

I do often wonder, had things turned out differently how my ability to maintain would be currently situated; I wonder, while on account of an overactive thyroid/adrenal gland my levels of physical energy are generally nearing overflow, if my mental energy would have come with something close to the same description or if, perhaps by comparison I was always destined to have an insipid mind..?

I’m just glad it’s Friday.

Article by Tim Walker

Edited by Min Till Vaggar

Photography by N Scippid-Mend