There are those rare moments when you pick up a book and can't stop reading it late into the night even though you are very tired because it makes you feel that your life is just so beautiful in comparison. Reading about heartache and pain of situations so sad, so melancholic, yet somehow with a beauty of their own sets a sense of tranquilly around me. I love sad stories, they eat to your heart and they make you realise that you have so much to be grateful about.
I love this life. And I mean it. Every single breath that I take, every beat of my heart, every image on my retina, every impulse picked up by my senses, these are part of the gift of life, simple things to be treasured.
I'm not supposed to feel so strangled right now, but I do. It's hard to breathe.
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