In Death, I find Life.
People change, and supposedly more when they live in new faraway places with different cultures. Whether they change for better or for worse, that’s another question; better or worse according to whom while we’re at it too… After all the years of living by myself, surviving backstabs and ridiculous envies just because I am young and female, I used to think that maybe retreating from life is the way to go. I have gone so used to living death that I have never thought life would still be there for me to embrace. Life called me by my name, sent me 5000 miles away from home, and showed me that it exists. So what now? Do I retreat to the comfortable death I’ve grown accustomed to, or do I return to fight for life again?
