Scars from a thousand battles

Heroes show their scars—whether from the ring, the cage, or the battlefield. The broken nose or bullet wound may have healed over time, leaving a mark as testimony to past pain, often overcome. These scars become symbols of pride and recognition—for bravery, strength, and resilience. Our atavistic culture, shaped by conflict and the dominance of physical force, honors them as such.

But there are also scars from a thousand battles that are invisible, unspoken, and unseen.
My losses, my deep doubts, my humiliations, my frustrations, my discomforts, my pain… The wounds of the mind and soul now lie hidden behind my smile and posture. And I say this in the first person, not as a generality, because I know they hurt like bullets or fists — with no witnesses — and they changed my life.

We rarely speak of these wounds, because we perceive them as weaknesses—in a world obsessed with how we appear, not with who we are.
And yet, I believe the opposite is true.

In a more peaceful and civilized society, bullets and punches no longer fly everywhere—but we’re still exposed to dozens of mental intrusions every day, in varying degrees. Some minds are strong, just like some bodies are strong — but neither can endure deep or prolonged damage indefinitely.

That’s why every human being deserves our deepest empathy, especially when they try to hide the evidence. Overcoming a mental trauma—whatever its nature—and rising again strengthens the self and weakens the hold of appearances on our inner value scale.

I can stand tall before those who haven't fought yet—
not out of pride, but because I’ve lived more.

My book "Singular Life and the Triangle of Illusions" and Pointfulness are abstract, cerebral expressions of my life experience—much like Sun Tzu speaking of the art of war.
But none of it came without blood, sweat, or tears.
And all of it can be shared in an honest conversation, free of judgment or prescriptions.
That’s what it’s all about.