Brainstorm
They say we leave this world just the way we came into it.
Naked and alone.
So if we leave with nothing, what, then, is the measure of a life?
Is it to defined by the people we choose to love?
Or is life simply measured by our accomplishments?
And what if we fail?
Or are never truly loved?
What then?
Can we ever measure up?
Or will the quiet desperation of a life gone wanting.
Drive us mad?
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