Blinded. Contented. 

We are all blinded; either by the past, the present, or the prospect of future. Most times, we can’t help it. Other times, we refuse to be helped. We trust the haze far more than we could ever trust clarity. We find solace looking for patterns in clouds than be shown the sun. We rather be groping in the dark than be hitting the bull’s eye under a focus. That’s how we get going, that’s how we pull through, that’s how we survive. 

The reality is too much to grasp. 

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