I do not answer malice with curses. And I do not spit venom in my words. I know, everyone tallies their debts in some ledger, inscribed in a heavy book somewhere above... I am a dreamer. A touch naive... I believe in goodness as something real, not phantom. But I know kindness can border on folly, if you keep offering the other cheek. I'm not afraid, though I stumble and fall. I've taken many blows where they hurt most. Yet despite each wound, I've lived through them all, kept my fire burning. I answer only to my conscience— let her know me, let her judge as she sees fit. I believe in the strength of truth. And I swear to myself to remain...
# Life I don't know what life is. I only know it moves, like a river that doesn't ask permission from the stones it smooths away. Sometimes it's the warmth of your mother's hand pressing bread into your palm— sometimes it's the cold that comes after, when her hands are still. Life is the question that answers itself by refusing to be still, the way a bird doesn't think about flying but becomes the air it moves through. I've seen it in the eyes of a child who hasn't yet learned the names of things, and in the silence of an old man who's forgotten why names mattered. It's neither the beginning nor the end— those are just the places we put words, like stones to mark a path through a forest that keeps growing back. Life doesn't ask you to understand it. It only asks that you breathe, that you let it pass through you the way light passes through glass, leaving you changed, though you may never know how.
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