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. How is one to live a moral and compassionate existence when one is fully aware of the blood, the horror inherent in life, when one finds darkness not only in one's culture but within oneself? If there is a stage at which an individual life becomes truly adult, it must be when one grasps the irony in its unfolding and accepts responsibility for a life lived in the midst of such paradox. One must live in the middle of contradiction, because if all contradiction were eliminated at once life would collapse. There are simply no answers to some of the great pressing questions. You continue to live them out, making your life a worthy expression of leaning into the light. somehow i did a very serious mistake. heaven knows^^ what if i could turn back time?? maybe thing would turn out another way? or is it better in this way now? immature or mature??. perhaps all those thing which had happen may have its own purpose and meaning behind it that we got to face??or maybe its my destiny?? disappointment :cry: how i wish this is just a dream or called it a nightmare.somehow i doubt u really understand.

"Infantile love says: "I love because I am loved.
"Mature love says: "I am loved because I love.
"Immature love says: "I love you because I need you.
"Mature love says: "I need you because I love you."