I've been thinking lately about the people who inspire me. The ones who teach me the difference between living and being alive. They are young, old, and in between. They laugh when shit hits the fan, and sometimes they cry just because. They have soft hearts and strong will.
But what sets them apart more than anything else is that they have suffered greatly. They are addicts, refugees, single parents, abandoned children, caretakers, mentally ill, the abused and the abusers. They all know what it's like to fall apart and build themselves back up. Through all the pain they chose and the pain they were given, they found beauty and hope. It's as if they see the magic and love in the world that the rest of us forget in our complacency.
It seems to me that the people who most bring heaven to this world are the ones who have already been through hell.
But what sets them apart more than anything else is that they have suffered greatly. They are addicts, refugees, single parents, abandoned children, caretakers, mentally ill, the abused and the abusers. They all know what it's like to fall apart and build themselves back up. Through all the pain they chose and the pain they were given, they found beauty and hope. It's as if they see the magic and love in the world that the rest of us forget in our complacency.
It seems to me that the people who most bring heaven to this world are the ones who have already been through hell.
