A 16-year old local writer/editor of a student community (residence hall) publication
I used to feel that I know my own limits, and in me lay the concept of what I am to become, of what I want to be part of, of what I will be doing in the near future, of what I think would be nice for me, of how my fears would start to end its dreary situation, of which way will I choose next.
It's amazing to see myself living with no one special to care of. All I have to think, is myself, my own survival.
Sometimes I start to ask myself, am I assuring myself what's best for me? Have i grown enough to face the crowd of danger? Or am I just playing with this contemporary game I entered, running backwards, and hiding from the challenges associated with growing up.
That's life I thought. "Life is just a chance to grow a soul", I told myself of this familiar quote by Powell Davies. And, from the day I learned the value of sacrifice, to this point where I write my responses trying to reach out to my fellow readers and express the privileges of being human, I push myself to the essence of having a life lived for others which keeps me worthy intended to solving every day's riddle, and to reserving my strength to unexpected, fallen circumstances of failure, which almost got me to the point of surrendering, to help me uplift my personality and improve my well-being.
And now, I dream that someday I may stand up with my feet solid from the rocky steps through which I have fallen, wherein my downs would have carried me one step higher, to that certain fulfillment of a lifetime.
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