Dear Diary,
I thought about the last time I felt alive. Must've been 4 years ago, when I was hanging out with my group. When I we were laughing together, when we were on that excursion and I could smell the musty,earthy air of the place.
I've been planning for the future. And missing out the present. But what does the present have for me? Nothing interesting, no one, no sense of security that I can stop planning and strategizing everything and just let go, and trust in the moment.
I don't want to die tmr and realised I haven't really lived. But if I stop striving, will I fall behind? What kind of life will I have?
Attachment, I guess, is the cause of suffering.