Who can define life?
Sorrow, joy, hate, love and death.
All part of this corridor, this endless so-called path.
A part of the other question.
What is the essence of “I”?
“I” should be the essence of life, while every path we stroll is laid out before us.
“Is this who “I” am?”
“Is this how everything should be?”
Who has the right to call themselves the so
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