Intense heat and pressure, compounded over eons will turn a chunk of dark coal into a diamond. The diamond is mined, processed, cut, polished, blah, blah, blah. Eventually it becomes the stunning ring cradled in a velvet box held by the trembling hands of a young man, who's asking you to marry him. And as your gaze darts back and forth between the ring and his eyes, unable to decide the brighter, a million thoughts rush your mind. But not a one about how the coal became the diamond.

Why then, when you look upon yourself do you choose to see the darkness and the pressure and the toil of whom you used to be?

I see only the shine of your smile, and the strength of your heart.

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