Because of my parents, I realized something simple but true — adults don’t really exist. They have no secret manual for life, and most of the time, they’re just guessing like everyone else.
Because of my friends, I learned that real friendship only exists when you either have everything together or nothing at all. The slightest imbalance — and the bond begins to crack.
Because of my relatives, I learned to rely only on myself. Their “help” usually came down to one phrase: “We told you so.”
Because of my teachers, I discovered I’m both lazy and talented — a dangerous combination.
Because of work, I learned that every hour of my life has a price tag. And that price allows me to drift carefully through the ocean of life — sometimes afloat, sometimes sinking in debt.
Because of women, I realized I can be both ridiculous and, on rare occasions, interesting.
Because of home, I understood that I’m a guest everywhere — and never truly the host.
Because of cats, I learned that no matter how hard you try, you’ll never be as graceful or as free as one.
Because of dogs, I saw that unconditional love and loyalty aren’t just words — they’re living, breathing realities.
Because of sports, I understood that competition just isn’t my thing.
Because of books, I learned you can spend a lifetime fascinated by other people’s stories — and still never find the courage to write your own.
Because of music, I felt the existence of perfection — it lives quietly within seven notes.
Because of movies, I saw that some people have the will and stubbornness to turn their dreams into something eternal.
Because of travel, I realized the world is only “big” on a map. In truth, people are the same everywhere — the same hopes, fears, struggles, and longings. Only the food and the sunsets change.
Because of social media, I found comfort in knowing there are others who think like I do — and that fragile illusion of not being alone is sometimes enough.
Because of coffee, chocolate, books, and the occasional glass of wine, I understood that we each choose our own kind of painkiller to get through life.
Because of artists, I saw that in His spare time, God paints our sunrises, sunsets, and the moonlight on the water.
Because of faith, I learned that sometimes it’s the only compass left.
Because of love, I know I’m alive.
And because of hope, I still believe — somehow, some way — everything will be okay.