When the sun has long retired but the moon is not yet up, the streets glow yellow and everything is colored a shade of blue. The air is cold and someone is sitting alone, face illuminated by his phone. I feel melancholic, but I feel alive.

.

When she took my hand in both of hers, and said, thank you. She's lost so much weight, I feel her bones. And I know I don't deserve her thanks.

We don't have as long as we think we do, sometimes.

Her skin was yellow, her eyes tired and sad, and her husband looked on with an expression that said 'I love you' and 'goodbye' at the same time.

Someone once asked me, if we had the option to know how long we will live, would you choose to know? And I said, no. Absolutely not.

.

My parents brought me up to be independent and to survive. They told me struggles lie ahead, and I had to make my way myself. And for a long time, all I saw were struggles, when the books I read showed heroes and soul-crushing battles and...

All these months I've watched many people face the most terrifying kind of battle, and they all have a certain air about them, not entirely defeat nor acceptance, but just the atmosphere of someone who sees the end at last.

I don't know if we're here for a reason, or no reason at all. But I think it is okay to seek our own joy. It is alright to find our own path. It is not quite blasphemous to believe that with the struggles come joy...in the ugliness, somewhere someone is cultivating beauty. For all the pain I've had, there were many good moments and many great people. I will always try to believe the same for whatever lies before me.