Hey everyone! I just wanted to remind you all to embrace every moment because our time here is limited. Life gets so busy, but it's crucial to remember that we're only here for a short while, so let's make the most of it! I'm incredibly grateful for the universe blessing me with a healthy body, a healthy mind, and everything else I need for a fulfilling life. Let's start with my arrival into this world on September 14, 2006. My early years are a bit hazy, but I've been told that I was quite mischievous and loved taking my toys apart. I was ecstatic to start school at around 4 or 5 years old and got involved in nursery school and karate. I've always been passionate about learning, and I'll never forget the pride I felt when I scored 98% on a final exam, ranking first in my entire class. However, that joy faded a bit when my name was omitted from the award ceremony list and my scorecard was tampered with. It was a tough reality check for me. Afterward, I was feeling a bit down, but my parents took me to a Gift/Toy Shop to buy me a gift to cheer me up. I was stubborn and insisted on receiving an award/gift from school on a stage, but they bought me an expensive gift anyway, which I didn't accept at the time. Now, it's one of my most cherished memories, and the toy is proudly displayed on my memory shelf. This experience toughened me up and taught me some invaluable life lessons. Since then, I've grown to achieve a 2nd Dan Black Belt in Karate and I'm currently pursuing higher studies. I'm sharing this story not for your sympathy, but to illustrate that life often gives us a reality check. Maintaining a positive mindset has been crucial for me. It's not about the circumstances or the situation, but what we take from them that truly matters. I've also discovered that physical exercise has been a secret to building mental strength. Just a favor to ask: if you make a decision, keep it to yourself until you've applied it in your life. Also, it's best not to give advice on matters that you haven't personally experienced or don't have expertise in. Ananda, or true happiness, is within each of us. Start your self-discovery journey and embrace it. If you'd like to hear more about my life events, feel free to ask!

Once upon a time, amidst the gentle embrace of rolling hills and flourishing meadows, there existed a quaint little town where dreams bloomed like wildflowers in the springtime breeze. In this picturesque haven, resided a young man named Thomas, whose heart danced to the rhythm of nature's melody, and whose aspirations soared like kites against the boundless sky. Thomas was a soldier, serving his country with honour and bravery. He had been deployed to a faraway land, leaving behind his family and loved ones. It had been months since he had seen his parents, his siblings, and his sweetheart, Emily. Every day, Thomas would anticipate with bated breath the arrival of a letter from home, yearning to embrace the familiar voices and to bask in the tender warmth of their affection conveyed through ink-stained pages. Those letters became his lifeline, weaving a delicate thread that tethered him to the life he had bid farewell to. And then, one evening, as the sun descended in a blaze of fiery colours, casting the world in a surreal glow, a letter arrived, carrying with it the whispers of home and the embrace of loved ones from afar. With trembling hands, Thomas delicately tore open the envelope, his heart pounding with anticipation as he unfolded the precious parchment within. As his eyes scanned the graceful curves of his mother's handwriting, a wave of emotion crashed over him, stirring the depths of his soul. Tears welled up, blurring the lines of the heartfelt message that spoke of love, longing, and an unyielding sense of pride. In her words, he found solace amidst the vast expanse of distance, as she painted a portrait of home with every stroke of her pen. She reminisced of the warmth of his presence, the echoes of his laughter that once filled the empty spaces of their abode, and confessed how each passing day felt incomplete without his familiar embrace. And amidst her words, a flicker of hope burned brightly – a candle lit in the darkness, a silent prayer whispered on his behalf, illuminating the path that would one day lead him back into her loving arms Thomas clung to every word, each syllable a lifeline to the world he had left behind. With each sentence, memories unfurled like delicate petals, saturating his senses with the essence of home. He could almost taste his mother's freshly baked apple pie, warm and fragrant from the oven; hear his father's jovial laughter echoing through the halls, a comforting melody that resonated deep within his soul; and feel the gentle pressure of Emily's hand intertwined with his own, a tangible reminder of love's enduring embrace. In the intimacy of those written words, he found solace and sanctuary, the letter becoming a cherished portal that transcended time and space, whisking him away to the familiar comforts of home, if only for a fleeting moment. In response, Thomas dipped his pen into the inkwell, each stroke a testament to the emotions swirling within him. With each word carefully crafted, he poured his soul onto the parchment, laying bare his innermost thoughts and feelings. In the gentle dance of his handwriting, he shared the tapestry of his experiences – the camaraderie forged in the crucible of conflict, the whispered confessions beneath starlit skies, and the resilience that blossomed amidst the chaos of war. He spoke of the breathtaking landscapes that stretched before him, each vista a painting etched in the memory of his heart, and the indomitable spirit of humanity that flickered like a beacon in the darkest of nights. And as he penned his hopes for the future, he painted a portrait of a world bathed in the golden light of possibility, where peace reigned supreme and love knew no boundaries. As days melted into weeks, and weeks into months, the passage of time became a blur, each moment merging seamlessly into the next like colours blending on an artist's palette. Each sunrise whispered of new beginnings, while every sunset whispered of endings, weaving a tapestry of memories that stretched across the canvas of our lives. Thomas continued to exchange letters with his family, each one bringing him closer to his loved ones, even though they were physically miles apart. The letters became a lifeline not only for Thomas but also for his family, who eagerly awaited news of his well-being and clung to the hope of his safe return As the war's echoes began to fade, a letter arrived that shimmered with the promise of a new dawn. It bore the name of Emily, Thomas's beloved, whose words danced across the page with an effervescence that mirrored the joy in her heart. With each sentence, her excitement leapt off the parchment, painting the air with hues of love and anticipation. Thomas's heart, heavy with the weight of separation, now soared on wings of elation as he absorbed the news of their engagement. In that moment, time stood still, and the distance between them melted away into nothingness. His longing for Emily's

Two weeks I spent about 17 days feeling terrible with what was assumed to be the coronavirus. Imagine living your dream by relocating to study in Japan only to get sick before the new semester begins. I certainly was Alice in Wonderland as something I never accounted for occurred. Who in their right mind expected a pandemic to sweep through the world? Who expects to catch it at that? It was the sickest I'd ever been and I would never wish it on my worst enemy. It must have been truly dreadful for someone that can be fairly vindictive when crossed to never wish this on someone. The term sick as a dog doesn't begin to describe how I felt. I would hardly leave my bed, only ever to run to the bathroom. I never really ate and if I did, I had to force myself. I had always been grateful to live in my small apartment alone. Now I was even more grateful that no one could see how terrible my appearance had fallen and how ill I felt. It would have been too much of a hassle to go to the hospital knowing that they would push me away while saying, “You don't look very sick and you aren't having too much trouble breathing.” These are the words many foreigners are being told these days as we seek help in this country. I had no intention of going to the hospital. In fact, I felt I could heal better alone than if I were around people. I had my cellphone and people could message me as they pleased, though my replies were slow as I slept for most of the day. In that aspect, I never felt alone. There was always someone messaging me, always wanting to know if I was feeling better, if my symptoms were worse, or quite frankly just to make sure I was still alive. I'd only told a select few people based off of how close I was to them and if I felt they would react within reason. I never did like, or respond well, to people making a fuss over me even when need be. My own sister wasn't told that I was sick due to her overdramatic need to make you feel horrible about things outside of your control. “It's because you don't know how to take care of yourself. I knew you shouldn't have left the country. You always make bad decisions.” I can hear her now if she were to have known. She had a way of pinning blame on people, even when there was no one to blame. She'd find a way to, it was something I truly admired about her, to make something big out of nothing. Though it was also one of the many things I hated about her all the same. It's funny, death that is. It's truly funny, and dreadful, and petrifying in the fact that the most important aspects of it are a mystery to all that have yet to succumb to it. I have never truly been scared of death, but in the face of it, I felt numb. I wasn't very worried about what death would do to me. Once I was gone, that was it, it was over. I was always concerned about how it would affect other people. I kept telling myself, “You have to get better for your family.” I'm the good child out of my three siblings. How vain it must sound to openly say that, but it is the truth. I have always followed the rules, made good grades, followed my parents' instructions, and did what I was told unlike my older brother and sister who deviated from the path my parents had tried to get them to walk. What would they do if I died? Who would take care of them when they were wrinkled and gray? How would my mother hold a funeral and somehow send my body back to America? We all know none of us had the money for that. What about our plans to go fishing together? My mom has always liked to learn new trades, fishing being her newest interest. I was the only one of my siblings that knew how to fish after my friend's father taught me on our trip to Florida. Who would she go with in the future? Surely my siblings wouldn't be interested. And my silly father. Who would buy my father that Porsche he's always wanted? We had a joke, him and I. About how I would buy him a Porsche when I graduated and made it big. I never did understand his fixation with Porsches. If I didn't get better, would I have the chance to ask him? And my best friend. My dearest Angelica, what about all of the plans we had made for our future? How we would buy houses near each other where our children could roam free and happily? I would have left the world without having experiences that could only be given in the distant future. I would have died because of something out of my control. I'd always made sure to tell people I loved them almost every day for fear of one day losing them at any unsuspecting time. Somehow, the millions of times I said it just didn't seem enough when I felt my time was fleeting. How many times should I have said it for me to feel satisfied? To be able to say, “You told everyone you loved them numerous times for years, it's okay.” I honestly don't think I'd ever feel satisfied in those regards. With my lack of satisfaction, my determination grew. I needed to get better, if not for myself, then for those I deeply cherish.