P.S.

21 is really not the time you look out of the window and committing the thoughts of "life is..." - it becomes scandalous because it is more of "life is but...". The rest of the world paced their way to different places they would like to go to and passed through me as if I was a ghost.

21 could feel like a thousand year when you have been here and there. I have gone away to find my home, I have felt being not at home, have thought that I have found a home and have lived to see how it left me homeless. There can actually be no place for a soul here on earth, and my desire to leave this life is not that I know any place I could call home somewhere else. There is no place where I could rest my worn out body, there is no good father's gentle stroke on my sweating head, there is no sweet voice telling me how life has turned me this way; everywhere is but a spared space in someone else's house.

Time does not change anything, it only enfolds things as they are. I live only for that I have not died. It happens at 21 that I lost myself.