"What makes a man the way he is?"
This question has been part of the persistent thoughts that have been bothering me for the past few days. What is it that makes us who we are? Is it all because of all the circumstances we had to go through or is it fate acting on us? Can it be both? Yet again, more questions with answers I don't know where to discover.
As I recall the innumerable memories I have had so far, it amazes me how I am the way I am. There was this one particular moment where I woke up to the realization that I can not be like all the others - I do not want to live my life doing whatever it is that they do; loving whatever it is that they love.
I refuse to be stereotyped as this little girl who does not know a bit about life; I never wanted to be labeled as this little girl who smiles her way out of everything. Yes, I am eighteen; and some of you might say these silly thoughts of mine are awfully ridiculous. Then again, this eighteen year old lady, I must say, is quite rare.
I refuse to be oblivious to the world - I crave to grasp that feeling of knowing what there is to know. I shall live without regrets and be aware of what's out there. I thirst to experience every emotion that life can possibly give.
I do not want to be remembered only as part of a crowd.I want to be remembered as THE Christine Angela Sevilla that once lived her life extraordinarily.