The Miracle of the Self

My life hadn’t been easy up to that point. Stuck inside my mental prison, it was hard to see any good occurring. Everything seemed to follow a similar mundane continuum, and all I knew were the grew skies drawn upon my judgement.

I fooled myself for a long while, claiming that this was how my life was meant to be. I treated my discomfort with ignorance and any change with disbelief. The only kind of deviation I assumed would make things any better was that of the uncaring masses into sensible individuals. I never thought I had it in me the ability to cause a change.

That was ages ago though. I was still young, angsty and in pursuit of things that eluded me. I ignored the beginning and ending of the present, hoping to get the promise of a bright future in every day’s fated calling. But I ignored that this was a fallacy. Things weren’t going to happen out of destiny, for I had to regain the reins to my life before letting the universe witness the magnificence I held.

And this would eventually happen. Not as fast as I’d like to admit, but the fact is that I did. Thus, any accusation of tardiness soon becomes obsolete.

Nowadays I’m no longer in the business of denying myself the pleasure of rejoicing in the today I crafted with my bare hands. Willpower is what got me out of the state in which I had so comfortably and miserably settled. Had I not changed, I’d remain expectant for a miracle to enact itself and make everything better.

But miracles don’t come into fruition like that. Instead, they act by means of the self. The self disposition, the self discipline, the self acceptance and the self assurance. But above them all is the self desire to think of yourself as a miracle in the making, awaiting for the right moment to happen.

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