BATTLES AND SCARS

They say that to live life is to contemplate death, just as how we often think of the results on every starting measure. Maybe it was due to the eagerness of seeing through all the challenges, or perhaps it was a dire notion of assurance of what it could or should have been in the end.

To most, beginning is often scary while end corroborates with accomplishment. But to some, beginning is exhausting and the idea of an end is comforting. It wouldn’t always make sense to everyone, however, there’s a fine line between living and surviving, it could be the most sensible sense why in every given circumstance, one would often draw back to familiar ways—whether good or bad, because it is what makes it consoling.

Unimaginably, I managed to get through time with the littlest of consciousness of what it could’ve been if I lived, not survived. It could be a shame to most, but for someone who has lived a life through torments of grief and seething pain engraved deep within… Surviving is a chance, and living is a luxury.

Twelve months have been a catastrophic cycle. I’ve managed to hold on to my grounds over the span of time with the tightest grip on what I have just to not slip back on old routines. Most times I have to stare at my scars, even the fading ones, for an amount of time to remind myself how things would turn out, yet again, if I were to give in; then there are moments where I immensely felt how excruciating things are, but being reminded not to draw back on harmful ways of coping became more agonizing than how it was often imagined by many.

I have come to set forth that to live life is to endure what’s in store ahead of you—and that’s when you contemplate death as your verdict. Furthermore, I pondered on the thought that what makes a warrior, a warrior, was through his battle scars.

I may have lost to a great extent along the way, but this is a testament of all the chances I took to be here… Here’s to all the battles I’ve conquered.