Armstrong
By Armstrong – July 10, 20187183004
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Who Can Tell Where The Road Leads To?
Who can tell where it began or where it will end?
Each day we strut and fret missing what we were meant to be in pursuit of who we will never become. We loose our sight struggling to see the future that’s not ours to decide, claiming dominion over others, living an unsuitable life just to appear glorious in the eyes of people who takes no recognition of us.

Life is not a riddle. We are!
Won’t it be better if we don’t fight our fellow hunters instead of the game?

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I was made to believe that the reason why my family has struggled to progress is because evil people were spiritually attacking us and barring us from greatness. I grew up believing that lie determined though to break the jinx, I fought and failed.

Each time I sit down to think I remember that my family and I have been marked for torment and toiling.

I kept on failing even after smashing records. I kept on recreating that belief in my consciousness, allowing it to grow bigger and more powerful. The miserable shadow of knowing that no matter how much I try, how wise I work, I will never succeed ___ clouded and caged me until there was no hope left. I was going to end up like the others.

Everyone who tried to run pass the line in the past all died at the prime of his or her age. My grandfather, my father, and now I know it’s going to be my turn because I have really hurled bricks and bombs at the barbaric shackle in a quest to break it. I was afraid, determined, and confused.

Even though I was afraid I resolved to either die standing than to live on my knees.
I was too brave to bow. Something I was told were the same characteristics of those who had tried and died.

In that excruciating anguish, I was no longer fighting to live, I was no longer fighting to win, I was fighting because I was born in that battle. It was devastating, devouring, dreadful, that’s what happens when you are fighting a mental monster. When you kill one you create a dozen. I ran, all my life, without rest, and each time I try to fly the rope pulls me back to the beginning.

 There was no longer a life for me. They were winning. It has become a tradition and the rest of my family could only stand and watch, everyone from his or her own far distance. We could not stand as one.

It was becoming overwhelming before I realized what was really wrong with us. We were divided. We could not sit down and plan, work, and win together as a family. That was our problem, our shackle. We have no spiritual problem; we had mentally created our failures.

 With our minds we conceive. With our hands we create. With our mouths we water. Whatever you believe will work for you and whatever you fear will control you. Like I always say: the answers we seek are often not were we had hoped to find them. Sit down, visit your past, restudy your present, and recreate your life. It takes nothing more than the audacity and the boldness to look more closely at those things, which you think you have seen before. I believe that by telling you my own life stories you will be able to understand why I believe the way I do and why it could also work for you. Stop running when no one is after you!

[A Story Of Mark From Kenya]
Written By Armstrong