A teardrop fell into the ocean and got lost, mixed in the water—it was no longer just a teardrop but water in the ocean.​

My soul aches.​

Nothing stops the questions.​

The birds sing in the background, and I feel a sense of solitude, but it is warm.​

Are we all really good at anything at all?​

I lack creativity and a sense of imagination and get caught in the web of my own confusion.​

Trapped in this large cubicle of rows of many cubicles that could extend through the Great Wall of China, my eyes can only see in repetition mode day after day, night after night. What a wasted experience.

If you are here today, and your eyes skim through these nonsensical words, know that I am here, too. You are far from alone—breathe in the familiarity of your surroundings, all the new ideas and emotions that can flow each morning.

Sip those ideas alongside the morning tea or coffee.

Walk.

Stretch.

You are so insignificant to the world, and yet your existence takes up space and gives back particles that are necessary for new life to keep flowing. And perhaps, only perhaps, that’s our own destiny—to be the carriers of new life every day.