We...
Some of us did not choose to be born. We feel deep down in ourselves this sadness that draws us away from the light. Suffering bears down upon us like a weight on our back. We sometimes have to pinch ourselves hard to know we’re alive. We cannot go forward without being paralysed by questions. We’re not necessarily morbid, or suicidal. Just sceptical. Why was I born? Was it by chance? Does existence have any meaning? There are so many doubts that never leave us in peace. Until their last breathe, they must learn to tame their fears, to no longer fear nightfall as the promise of new insomnia.
