The Reflection of My Father

Looking back on these last few work-intensive days, I've noticed the reflection of my Dad staring back. It's strange; I never thought of us as particularly similar. In fact, I've always kind of resented how much time he devotes to his own profession.

But, dare I say it, there has been something ever so slightly exhilarating about over-working myself. I've found that I'm unintentionally emulating my father's work habits: I try to do everything myself, I work long hours, I skip my breaks, and I generally eat less than one meal a day.

I've always looked at my Dad's habits as strange, self-inflicted punishments. But I think there is also a dangerous and exciting element of pride that motivates pushing the limits of good sense. I just pray I don't enjoy the taste of that poison too much more.