Today, I came here once again and sat quietly, alone, in a room that felt both familiar and strange. Memories flooded my mind like the tide. I could not stop longing for the past, nor did I want to forget the hope and solace hidden deep within my soul. Snow-white walls, gleaming photographs-every corner of this world brimmed with happiness and sweetness...
I did not have the courage to speak of my reluctance to let go of the past, nor did I want to spoil the beginning of this new life, simply because I understood that everyone was struggling to live. I picked up my pen, but the words escaped me. In the end, all that remained on the blank paper were two trails of tears. Memories that came without reason always hovered uncertainly on the boundary between reality and dreams...
I tried to slowly recall the past. I tried to quietly look forward to the future, but... time had, after all, slowly slipped away, already turning to ashes in a moment of happiness, leaving not even a trace of bone behind. I loved that saying: "Please don't say I've let myself go and refuse to pull myself together. If you were me, you might not even be alive right now..." Truly, it was absolutely right. Don't say I've let myself go; I have a life of my own, too. Perhaps all of us born in the nineties were like this: we did not understand ourselves, and we wanted others to understand too much about us even less... Heh, there was so much to adjust to, and far more unexpected stories than I had ever imagined.
It was like a clean sheet of white paper. Though nothing had been left on it, everyone, upon reaching the end of life, would