Well, to be honest, I don’t think I know a thing about life. Life doesn’t know much about me either.

I’m still trying to figure out how to live and what it all is even about.

I don’t think I’m the appropriate person to give advice in this case, but to be fully frank, I don’t really believe anyone is.

Maybe this it’s what it’s all about, the process of trying to figure out what makes your life ...

Disgust.

I’ve grown familiar to this feeling over time, pure hatred at the reflection that looks back at me.

Why? Why do you apparently contain so much of my worth?

I’ve never agreed to this.

Why does your existence restrict me like this?

I wish to be perceived, just not as you.

I’m much more than you, you do NOT define me.

Why do other people fail to see that?

Why do I fail to see that?

...

I could observe my foundation, what maintained my whole being, the evidence of the passing of the years, what gave me strength to continue growing freely.

At my sides I could discern the ramifications of my decisions with their consequences: there were stronger ones, as well as more delicate ones, some were just a slight breeze away from falling into oblivion, from them emerged those learnings th...