Everything I tried to do ended up failing. Nothing I planned were working, and I just had failed the entrance test that I had written after working beyond hard for two long years. I was the biggest failure before my father's eyes. My mother's silence accused me of breaking her only dream. I was guilty. The sun was exactly over my head, and the heatwave of summer had turned the entire road an abandoned place, but none of it was reaching me. I had burnt way too much to notice a new fire. Just then, my phone rang, and I was told that my boyfriend didn't make it. Despite all his courage, his will to live and his patience, he had passed away. I wanted to cry, cry loud enough for the skies to hear, but not a single drop of tear came out. A few blocks away, there were people waiting, waiting for me to tell them that life was beautiful, and that it's worthy of all the fight in you. I was a believer they came to believe. But, at that moment, no cell in me was fighting, and I knew I couldn't lie to look pretty to them. Dragging my body a little harder, I cleaned my face, took a deep breath and walked towards that stage. Closing my eyes for one last time, I prepared myself to say the truth, "Life hurts sometimes. Hope feels like a dirty lie. You are convinced that you don't matter, and the world appears to be a place you don't fit in anymore. Emptiness isn't a good place to be. Life really does show you no mercy. So, question yourself every time before you choose to quit, is that all you have got? Is that all it takes for you to break? Most of your branches might be brutally broken, and existing might be a whole new war, but don't forget to take a deep breath and see, see closely, are your roots really dead? Oftentimes, there's always something still left."
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