Life is a series of paradoxes. All waiting to be lived. Again and again.
When we're little we depend on our parents for everything. Even if we don't realize it then we take all the information they send towards us, willingly or not. And so we somehow become mini versions of them (try thinking about it before saying a definite "not true!"). After that, when we reach teenage years we suddenly want to be independent and take life in our own hands. We feel misunderstood and neglected by the same parents who covered us in their affection all those previous years. Weird, huh? Further on, as we grow older we give birth to other types of dependencies and it turns out we're never actually as independent as we want to believe. Yeah, we state it out loud, but deep down we each have our own issue we want to get rid of. Can we, really? No matter how hard we try, it will haunt us forever. It's the dependence our parents instilled in us. It's what they did wanting us to be perfect and forgetting to let us be "ourselves".
So in the end, is it really MY life? Or is it a repeated sequence of the same life changed in a chapter or two? Are we the reminiscent life of the ones before us?
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