the world works in mysterious ways sometimes i wonder if it's divine intervention or simply God playing a cruel joke on me just to remind me how impossibly small i am how egoistical to believe my pain is simply the creation of God and out of all living beings he’s focusing solely on me maybe i don't mean it maybe it's easier to have someone to blame maybe i’m not all that different in the end sometimes i do think the world revolves around me a combination of my own grandeur and that of my family i am my father's daughter after all bearing the same burdens sharing the same curse my blood is his and sometimes that makes me sick my blood is his and sometimes that makes me proud my blood is his and his blood is mine and it's a startling realization wondering if there's anything of my own my body is not mine, it’s a combination of parts and pieces from my creators my personality is not mine either, simply a character created from the mannerisms of people who aren't me taking the most likable parts of others and making them my own by definition, that makes me the best doesn't it? a sum of all the greatest parts?
We Are God | Max Senter
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