There lives inside each of us a small sphere of colors, containing within it an intangible, exuberant force of life. Each one is unique, and each one is beautiful. It breathes, it moves, it speaks, and it's constantly evolving. It's the spirit we carry with us and from time to time we speak of its aura. We can feel it as our heart beats, as we breathe, as we walk, talk, eat, and drink. But more often than not, we are unaware of it. Its presence seems to come and go, and when we try to grasp it, it slips away. But it's there. The sphere of colors, or whatever you may call it, are the essence that captures our beings. It's what we often refer to when we call each other by our names. It's ultimately what makes you, you. But what is it that makes it so hard to realize who we are? Why is it that nobody can just tell us who we are and be fine with it? What is it that makes us ask the question, "Who am I?". Why do we burden us with questions after questions, in quest to seek ourselves? Is it true that we're in a constant struggle to find ourselves in this life, battling to find out our true selves? If yes, what is it that we're fighting? Could it be the world? The people? The devil? The temptations? Or is it ultimately, you are fighting yourself? I don't know. But we're faced with constant struggles, dilemmas that must be resolved. And at any given time, the adversary can be the common sense, a person, moral justice, temptations, personal beliefs, yourself, or more. But the question still holds. Why do we burden us with questions after questions? What is in for us at the end of this quest? Do we have a destination in our mind? Or is there a destination to begin with? Again, I don't know.
E. E. Cummings
To be nobody but yourself in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make you everybody else means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight; and never stop fighting.
1 comments:
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