What am I doing?

Inner peace feels like cherries in spring and the leaves in August. It's like scratching an itch. Like finding a perfect puddle of water.

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You hear about it, but you don't live it, and that disconnects you.

But when you live it, you really live it, and it kills a part of you.

Most tragedies have to be lived before they can be felt.

And most tragedies have to be felt before they can be understood.

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