Tell me who I am. (29)
What I think is all I have left. My mind is the only thing that makes me different from a fancy toaster. What we think does matter-it's all we truly have.
It can take years to mold a dream. It takes only a fraction of a second for it to be shattered.
I used to be someone.
But I am more than a name. More than they tell me
Chance. It weaves through our lives like a golden thread, sometimes knotting, tangling, and breaking along the way. Loose threads are left hanging, but the in and out, the back and forth continues, the weaving goes on. It doesn't stop.