Our own path

     They were my friends, everyone has an interesting man, defended beautiful, hide back. Only her alone, still struggling quietly alone in life. Yet perhaps he was wrong? Why should the parties themselves have chosen a lot of thorns? I started frustrated, tired. Especially when looking at an old woman, ugly, face full of wrinkles in the mirror.

       Time passed quickly. For a while, I think I can not get old. It was really incredible. Yet a hard life both physically and mentally seems to bruise my pleasure. We are beginning to age. My premature aging. A lively young age, was passing strong. Unfortunately we do profligate it. I spent a lot of time for learning useless things. We committed a lot of mistakes in my life. And we did not create a good premise for the future as money, a husband and children. Now we almost did not have anything. We have to do? How much regret the time how restraint back? Regret what is to what extent we can do anything. Had shelved all happiness and sadness, resentment of yore. We turn the page of life. I will live and devote ourselves to our work. Building our life with joy and healthy indulgence.
       The road is not wrong to make me go. That's just the path is too long to go to the destination. But because the survival of ourselves, we had to go. Now just wish there were more money to live. Our roads are going to be immense and spread a happy green color. Do not be upset or remorseful do anymore, adorable little girl, my. Everyone has a life of its own. Reason we bring our lives compare with the life of others. Despite knowing that, all comparisons are lame. The value of life is not measured by material things alike. But the true value of life is measured by the perception of happiness from the depths of the soul.
       She is having a life of freedom in the house owned dresses promised city itself. A self-employed work cavalier, autonomy. A plan to become billionaires also very feasible. And a fun, joy every day when she wrecked her lead in the work that is very passionate. There are all these things alone can not make her happy. Nor is all the things she needed. But at least she was not upset yourself.
                                                                    Author: Pham Thi Hoi