What is life?

How seriously one should take their life? This question should come later. First, what life really is? For years, I thought my life is reading. I haven’t really read much in months. My life is still going. Meanwhile, I thought maybe it’s knowing new things. Reading was just a way ot it. Then there came a thought, maybe it’s sharing of the new things we know. The question is not solved.

I’ve stopped writing too, and even more, writing my diary. Am I such afraid of my own life? <<break>>

My writing is so haphazard. Such is my life. See you!

What are you thinking?

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