All my life I had been looking
for something, and everywhere
I turned someone tried to tell
me what it was. I accepted
their answers too, though they
were often in contradiction
and even self-contradictory.
I was na茂ve. I was looking for
myself and asking everyone
except myself questions which I,
and only I, could answer. It
took me a long time and much
painful boomeranging of my
expectations to achieve a
realization everyone else appears
to have been born with: that
I am nobody but myself.
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