The World Is a Series of Objects That Mean Nothing but the Value We Place on Them

There's a deep loneliness associated with that mis cons ceptin as though the world is put together, but i, i am not. You are human, perfectly imperfect, equipped with tools to take another i. And what's catheter, you are defying, not by your mistakes, but by the present me. Not some impossible expectation of perfection, but by your ability to rise and rise again when it requires all of you.