It is precisely our uncertainty in life to make it worth living.
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Sharing poems & thoughts, one redacted word at a time.
It is precisely our uncertainty in life to make it worth living.
She is fire and water. For the first time, she is vivid, free, and full of life, and shall go on living so complete.
Life is measured in a choice between death and living with the eagerness for more.
You are a stranger living by yourself; no one to love.
A lost mind, locked inside cracking with emotion. I've tried living freely, that's simply not me. I can't reinvent myself.
I think I just stopped living. I thought, I'm not worth anything and my heart, it's still broke.
Just when you thought the story is at an end, how lovely. A new era begun: I am slowly, beginning to delight again in living, my heart pouring out, and my dreams better.
Isn't it odd? How we put off living til one way or another we discover a happy life.
Isn't it beautiful? I love living slightly more on an ordinary morning.
The living human is cursed hustled along middle-aged, middle income stomping along but alive. Manufactured flesh and smile.