I am prone to wonder…curious how my life would have been if certain individuals had never crossed my path, or I had never wandered onto theirs, or if they had never existed. I just wonder – and then, I realize that wondering is pointless. Dreaming of an utopian existence will only ever be just that: a dream. So, instead of wiping clean my memories like the bad had never shadowed me or tripped me or shoved me in the dirt is just as fruitless as if I were to imagine… a perfect line of ideal events that settled me comfortably in the right direction; because, all those left turns and right turns and U-turns and ignored stop signs put people in my life that tore down my pride, forced me to re-evaluate my choices, my faith, myself…lent me a hand when I was digging out of the mud, showed me patience and solidified friendships with a stronger bond than would have been possible if I were the same person before growing up turned my dream into my harsh reality. I wonder why reality has to be harsh, and I think that…of course it has to be! A gorgeous vase is first wet clay, molded and beaten and molded and beaten and thrown into the kiln to strengthen, before it can proudly support a bouquet of lilies.