Gazing at the rain, I consider what it means to belong, to become part of something. To have someone cry for me.
Of course I’ll hurt you. Of course you’ll hurt me. Of course we will hurt each other. But this is the very condition of existence. To become spring, means accepting the risk of winter. To become presence, means accepting the risk of absence.
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The bravest thing I ever did was continuing my life when I wanted to die.