Writer: Sarah Mohammed

Dear Diary, 

Life isn’t what I thought it would be. What did I expect, though? I don’t know.

Maybe I expected it to be easy, empty from any obstacle, full of light, galaxy after galaxy behind wide open doors. Maybe I thought of it as an abbreviation for love, infinity, facility, and eternity, but later found out it was nothing but simplicity of letters randomly put together to name a beginning that turns out to be an end, or maybe a well-thought-out abridgement for the lasting illusion of fairness and eternity.

It is quite a mystery to me how I turn out to be surprised about the things I always had known were going to happen, the scenarios I had expected since forever, the barriers I had thought of myself as being prepared for, but in reality, was far away from being rudimentary ready. I hallucinated, believed in capabilities that never were part of my soul and, on the top of that, expected the impossible to turn into normality. 

Perhaps I was never meant to define life, but to live its definition. Maybe time was not made to be wasted by questioning the directions that the wind was guiding me to, and maybe it is yet not too late to turn my world around and to give it the abundance it deserves to be given. Maybe I still can go after my dreams and achieve all that I initially had in mind. Maybe I could live again.