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Life is a giant chunk of clay. It starts off clean, unblemished by the hardships of this world. But slowly you get your hands dirty and the chunk becomes a creation. It will only be what you make it. No one will ever destroy or take over your creation, they will just aid you in sculpting it a different way. And the colorless ball is painted with beautiful colors from the people walking in and out of your life.
From the moment you first open your eyes in the world you are the finest artist ever to exist. You’re no longer a chunk of clay in someone else’s sculpture, you are starting to mold your own life. Your story, your parents, your siblings or lack of, the place you were born are already formed into your sculpture of life. I wouldn’t be able to put a shape to my sculpture, but this short quarter has helped me realize how fragile life really is. I’ve had moments of pure happiness, where the smile on my lips wont fade. I’ve also had longer moments. That lump in the back of your throat you get from holding back tears has lingered in my trachea for days.
I’ve learned that we need to hold onto the little things that are often taken for granted because one day we wont have them. It makes me realize that I need to cherish every moment, good and bad. Every moment is another pinch, another poke, another figure added to the sculpture of life.
I’ve learned that we need to hold onto the little things that are often taken for granted because one day we wont have them. It makes me realize that I need to cherish every moment, good and bad. Every moment is another pinch, another poke, another figure added to the sculpture of life.