I
used to think that who we are, was written somewhere above the clouds, between
the huge spaces among the stars. To discover our inner selves, we would need to
chart an epic journey of self-discovery. Oftentimes stumbling across the way,
sometimes never making it beyond the earth’s atmosphere.
Now, I have been taught to embrace a new
ideology. One that demands a little more than passively traipsing across the
cosmos – one that requires us to be more creative, to use our imagination to
carve out of life, pieces of a life we could only imagine. To take the
circumstances we are thrown into and mould them according to our will. To chase
after the colours that exist in our world and to paint (rain or shine) the
masterpieces of our lives, according to the beholder – the looking glass that
is our truest self.
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