Would I be I without all the things I've done?
If I wouldn't fail and fall like I did.
To the ground.
Again and again and again...
And still got up and kept going again.
Until I had no reason to fall anymore.
What would I be like, if I wouldn't be scared the way I did?
Would I feel the same compassion for the ones that are still scared?
Who also got wounds to heal from the life.
And even from the people who you thought should be the guardians of your heart.
From those who should have protect you.
Should have taken care of you.
Who taught you to scare.
And that you should dislike yourself.
Just because they didn't know any other way.
Would I love the way I do, if I wouldn't had the strength to forgive them?
To love THEM anyway?
To feel the gratitude from the lessons learned?
And finally choose to forgot about, what you thought their crime was.
There was something...
... but it really doesn't matter.
If I wouldn't yet allowed myself to love who am I?
Would I feel the joy and peace that I do, if I hadn't learn to laugh and smile like I do?
Even through tears and sweat of pain.
While no one was watching, so you knew that it really was you who wanted.
Who felt like it.
Who felt the need and enjoyed it.
Who slept the night while everything wasn't on their place.
When things were still imcomplete.
When you didn't know how to survive the day starting the next dawn.
Which you doubt might not come.
That this is it.
The end.
Of all.
Of you.
But the sun rised and showed you there is much to come.
Good things.
Wonderful things.
And after that little rest you felt - now I can breathe.
Now I feel free!
Would I like to be other than me?
To had another kind of life?
Oh, why would I?
