Life is so hard but it’s so beautiful. I find it strange that one minute you can be begging for God’s mercy, and then wish the next minute never ceases. I’ve been through so much emotionally I find it hard to explain physically. It would only take a person who is truly in touch with themselves to have true empathy for someone else. I’m still searching. I’m still searching for who I am. I’m searching for who I would like to be. Sometimes I wonder if that battle ever ends. I wonder if the people who find themselves in private rooms of the homes of their sons and daughters during their final years, could truly look at a young woman like me in the eye and say I knew who I was, but more importantly now I know who I am. I wonder if this revelation of self is only found in heaven and the battle we fight on earth is because we never accept it until death.

Is this what life is? Is this what makes life beautiful or is this the element that makes life painful? The irony in it or the mystery in it?

What do you think?

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