Life. Oh, what a huge sorrow was when I realized that all those high pink walls that my mother so skillfully eradicated around my sister and I began to disappear. I despised the greyness of life. I still do, though now I feel I am part of it. And I do not have what it takes to rebuild those walls. I don't have the strength to fight against everyone and everything. Because they are me, and I am them. I don't have the strength to fight against myself. My grey self that swallowed my colourful self. But I think this is part of being a grown up. This greyness. This tiredness. This seriousness...

Life. What is it's meaning? You always come back to it. And always in the worst moments...


  1. Probably one of the best answers:


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