i am coming to terms with the fact that our world is not something that can ever be understood fully. we want to believe so badly that we are the the authors of our own destinies, but how much can we really control?
how can we still be so naive as to claim ascendency over our own lives when we are so often held at the mercy of emotions that we cannot comprehend any more than the pain that they instill in our hearts?
and after so many years and so many disappointments, how can we still regard ourselves as purveyors of our own existence?
