at me. i see a human face, not the face of a hero; a human heart, not a heart of stone. it hurts and it bleeds, but it keeps on beating – and it grows stronger by the year. and when the storm dies, and the sun rises, and i shake off the frosts of night… i see that i have a place in the world. i move to and fro, i rise and i fall. some days i am my best, others i am my worst. i recognize all of this in myself, and in others, and i try not to expect anything more or less from anyone. because 