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  • When I was younger, I would doubt that I was human. To test my theory, I would pinch myself, and yes, even shed a little blood. I was convinced that I was steel inside, unbreakable. And many times a day, I would place my hand over my heart to see if it was still beating. Not because I was afraid it stop. But because I was wondering what a heart really was, what it looked like, what it did. I thought my heart might have been a pulsing lump of metal fed by wires; my brain a microchip, my blood red paint, my skin plush. I was convinced I was a machine. An unstoppable, immortal machine. Hardly! Over time, I learned to face the facts: I was just a person, as fragile as everyone else on earth. No one has a steel heart. No one lives forever. No one is solid machine. You are just a living being, living through time, real blood pulsing through your veins. And so it didn't take me long to admit that my body- flesh, bones, spirit and all- is the only thing, the everything I have until I die.
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