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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