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Cycles of Life, Insight, and Death.

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I saw a movie. People killed themselves because the trees released a toxin into the air that made them do it. That night I shut my windows.
I caught a fish. At the lake with my father, but it swallowed the hook and I killed it. I threw it down and cried.
I died. When I was just a baby, of SIDS but my daddy brought me back. He held me just as he had Sixteen years ago. When I cried about the fish.
I was bullied. A victim of senceless violence, and socal abuses. I shut my window. Just as I had when I watched that movie.
Life repeats itself. Just as history does, life is just a cycle. We live, grow, laugh, cry,
we die.
I walked in the woods. And soaked up the beauty of the world, in its perfect unperfection. I know now, that there is no good without the bad, the living without the dead. We are so small.
I am content. To live my life the best I can. And when it comes my time to die,
to be ready.



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