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Reflection from March 14th, 2011 @ Age 29


I don’t think of these things often.  When I sit down to write, I think of things more clearly, or I write until I do in any case.  I write and I think, and I write more and think more—it’s a process, just as is life.  It would do me good to think of these things.  What a special journey I’ve been on.  What a story to tell.  But does the inability to express perfectly how I feel make the expression not worth conveying at all?  I don’t know.  I lean either way, depending.

I am very white and black, all or nothing.  If I cannot be perfect, it is difficult for me to be.  If I cannot be perfect, I often don’t want to even try.  But what is perfection?  The attainment of that which is sought, or the journey of seeking?  I do not know—but I know what I suspect.  I often forget though, where beauty actually lies.  I forget that perfection lies in the struggle of the human spirit to achieve what is merely believed in our minds to be perfection.  The struggle is what is perfect, what is beautiful.  Not the end.  It’s the journey.  It’s the choices.  It’s what defines us.  It’s the pursuit of character that makes us beautiful beings.  We are not all beautiful.  We are not all equal.  We all have the choice to be beautiful though.  And equality is irrelevant in beauty, as a fundamental quality.  Beauty stands on its own.  We all can be beautiful, but we must choose it, and work for it.  Beauty is not easy.  It takes patience, it takes determination, it takes persistence.  Beauty requires hope against all odds—it requires belief in the impossible.  But beauty can make the impossible, possible.