Living isn't courage, knowing that you're living, that's courage

Today at school I wrote an essay about Flag Day which was so beautiful, but ever so beautiful - for I even used words without really knowing what they meant.

The mystery of human destiny is that we are fated, but that we have the freedom to fulfill or not fulfill our fate: realization of our fated destiny depends on us. While inhuman beings like the cockroach realize the entire cycle without going astray because they make no choices.

For only when I err do I get away from what I know and what I understand. If "truth" were what I can understand, it would end up being but a small truth, my-sized. Truth must reside precisely in what I shall never understand.

I just know that I don't want cheating. I refuse. I deepened myself but I don't believe in myself because my thought is invented.

I write to save someone's life, probably my own

So long as I have questions to which there are no answers, I shall go on writing.