We do not grow absolutely, chronologically. We grow sometimes in one dimension, and not in another; unevenly. We grow partially. We are relative. We are mature in one realm, childish in another. The past, present, and future mingle and pull us backward, forward, or fix us in the present. We are made up of layers, cells, constellations.
We don’t know what goes on in anyone’s life but our own. And when we mess with one part of a person’s life, we’re not messing with just that part. Unfortunately, we can’t be that precise and selective. When we mess with one part of a person’s life, we’re messing with their entire life.
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