05

I have this book, some sort of journal a foreign friend gave to me. On its cover it reads "Life begins at the end of your comfort zone". Now, I have never been the kind of guy keep a journal going for a long time. I normally write a couple entries and that's that. But this little journal, I decided to make it a little different. Instead of writing in it, I keep little scraps of paper, some letters, pictures, drawings, little things like those. I have never been one to write about my past but I collect little pieces of it. Whenever I see one of those papers, the memory of how it came to my possession comes back. Receipts from gifts I got for those I care about, the receipt of the first time I went to have lunch with person I love the most, small letters given to me for my birthday, and some other small papers that actually bring back bad memories, that sort of things. In a way, I can revive those days and keep them close to me. When I look back on that path I have walked on, I can't help but feel nostalgic. Now that the world is crashing down around me, those little memories either give me strenght or tear me down. This duality however, keeps me going forward. Keeps me alive. I can trace every bit of bit: every moment of joy, every hardship.
This year has been insane, but I should always remember what gives me strenght and has driven me this far.