Dear myself,

One sentence that rings in my head just a short moment ago, 'If only I could die in your arms'. Strange for us who obnoxiously say that we will live a long life and yet we dream to die so often.

Maybe because we haven't found what we're looking for. And all that time of not finding anything exhausts us so greatly and death sounds like a pleasant thing.

But death is not the end of everything. We believe that there is something behind there, behind the death. Heaven or hell, they say. Or reincarnation, they say.

Honestly, I don't really care.

Or maybe I do.

Dear myself, I still want to know where our life will be going to. And maybe we will discover whose arms they would be, the arms that embrace us. Though maybe we won't be dying in them.

And maybe, we could be the arms for someone else too.