I wish, I had been born knowing. I would have had all the answers to all the questions, from birth.
I would have known which man will break my heart and which one will become a frog after the first kiss, so I could keep the distance. I would have known when I should rush up in the storm of the life and when I should slow down and smell a dewed lily of the valley. I would have known when I am needed, and when I’m intruding. I would have known when I should let people fall and when I should catch them, when I should give advices and when let them make their own mistakes.
I would have known that in the end all my sorrows are small and insignificant, and things that matter will be there, over the time, strong, that my efforts will count for something and my seeds will be growing in my garden. I would have known that I could stop worrying.