I had many teachers, great and wise. Book by book, lesson by lesson, they taught me all I thought I needed to know. How to judge, what to understand, why to strive. Who to be, how to get, what to want.
I studied diligently, and grew. The lessons of my teachers saw me safely through storm and fury, heartbreak and triumph. I stood tall, strong, proud. A boy had become a man.
And yet. The more I knew, the less I understood. The more I had, the less I was. The more I won, the less I felt. And I did not know why.
The boy had become the man. But what was the meaning of the journey? What does it mean…to be here, alive, for a brief moment, underneath the endless stars?
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