My brother's music. He wrote an orchestra piece called "We Walk On Cotton Eggshells" - it was about one of the worst trials our family has gone through. We watched him conduct it during his Senior Recital. I remember seeing tears running down my father's cheeks, and only then realizing that I was crying, too.
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I don't believe that anyone can love everything else if he or she tries enough. Or even that everyone is deserving of love. There are individuals that are beyond inhuman in their habits and actions. They deliberately use the love of others to manipulate and twist them, and are either incapable of seeing (or uncaring) of the consequences of their actions on others. Love, for some reason, doesn't change these people. If anything, the power love grants them simply makes them more monstrous. The selfish, deliberate mutilation of others, mentally or physically, "just to see what happens" is something I can't love, nor can I love the people who possess those traits.
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Courage. I'm not naturally a courageous person. I don't enjoy, or even tolerate well, adversity. My natural state is, frankly, possum. However, I can't do anything with my life when I keel over scared due to normal stimuli. I can't help but think that means I'm supposed to learn how to overcome this exaggerated base instinct. I also can't help but think that I missed the point my previous few lives if I have to take a remedial course, so to speak :)
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I don't regret anything. I could wish that some things hadn't had to happen, but I don't regret them- even the things that were my fault. I've always done the best I could with what I knew, and I can't expect anyone to do differently.
I've also always felt a kind of creeping horror at the idea of dying and feeling that I had squandered opportunities and did nothing with what I was dealt. My aunt passed away in that condition. I never want to.
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