All my close friends, and people I like a lot are somehow WOUNDED, or TROUBLED.

I think that struggle, especially deep emotional, or psychological, or intellectual stuggle gives a different sharpness to awareness. The world gains another dimension. The world loses black and white, clean categories when your own life is irrationally chaotic or irrationally beautiful, or in general NOTHING like what a “normal” existence is supposed to be. Life becomes your battlefield, your playground, your SPACE.

Struggle has bred some of my favorite human beings on the planet. They are like wounded beasts – fierce and painfully alive, with eyes that seem to glow in the dark.

I love them all, but they could tear you to shreds if you’re not careful. I guess we co-exist in peace because we are all of one kind.


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