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I guess I wasn’t meant for this world, for this life. I have got a far too idealistic view of what life should be. I have got no ambition. I don’t know what success mean and, what is more, I don’t want to. I am not made to fulfill this world expectations. What is important for them is meaningless for me; and what’s important for me, it’s just a nonsense for them. I am not who they think I am. I am expected to do things I cannot do, to think things I cannot think, to feel things I cannot feel. I am not made to be the person they want me to be. It doesn’t matter where they put me because I’ll be always out of place. And I get tired, tired of trying to make them understand, tired of fighting them back. I am so very tired.  I am not made of stainless steel, all shinny and indestructible. I don’t even know what I am made of, but I do know that it is messy, heavy and light at the same time, simple and unsophisticated, solid and resistant. But also I can be torn apart when you least expect it, with the most insignificant of blows.

I am sorry to disappoint but I cannot help being how I am.