one day i think i'm exactly where i need to be, another day, i'm completely clueless.
Being completely accepted balances utter isolation.
Feeling love balances the acceptance of the slap in my face by old flames.
Being in the presence of God almighty is no comparison to fighting the demons that follow life in the ghetto.
I hate cockroaches.
No one should be left alone in a hurricane...ever!
How much love to i honestly have to offer?
Am i supposed to be here? Do i have something to offer? How can i possibly understand the implications of a life spent in service?
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