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I always felt somewhere deep inside that I’d become someone larger than life. That I’d succeed. That I’d speak in confidence in front of groups of thousands about what I’ve learned and how what I’ve learned has turned the world around, at least my own little world where I used to be stuck in one place watching everyone else move around me. When I was 10 years younger, I felt very wise. Everything was really deep and I knew it was, so that is how I kept going. That is how I justified my actions, because there was something deep, buried really deep inside each of us that will always remain a mystery and nothing is capable of prescribing our own disease away. So I thought, this is me and this is you and we’re all doing the best that we can and there is something more, we just don’t know what it is yet. But then as the years passed, that knowledge gave way to panic. The this is me and this is you was no longer good enough because I wanted to be more than I was and I wanted them to be more than they were. It got to the point where it seemed like everyone was wise, like the whole world was reflecting, creating art and making themselves stand out just by being average or even by being above. And what is special when everything is. So larger than life turned out to be life and I spend a lot of time reading other people’s stories about how they’ve made a difference because the difference I’ve tried to make was not at all what I thought and now my faith is on the back burner boiling away. Eventually a dry pan, with darkening bottom, waiting to catch on fire, because I’m not putting anything else in, and I forgot it was there and that there was something we were all going to eat. It was going to feed us. Make a difference in the large scheme of things but we all still act so hungry, like we’ve never been fed and that even if you tried it’d never be enough.