I open the journal.

A loose page falls out. As of writing this, I do not know who I am. I do not
know my name. I do not know what I look like. I do
not remember how I got here, or where here is.

What I do know is that it is beautiful, and it is ugly,
and despite it all I am happy to be here. To be a human
with the capacity for love and kindness, to be able to
hold and cherish the world around me.

It is bloody, and it is violent, and it is unjust. People just
like me are killed every day simply for the sake of
being killed. Children are abused and love is left behind.
Countries are at war and people are dying, people are
starving, and it seems like no one cares.

But if you look outside, you will notice that the sun is
still shining. The wind is still blowing, and the seasons
still change. When the end comes for us, the world will
go on. She will heal and start anew. We are not the end-
all be-all. Live life while you can. Look around you and
smile. You are a part of this. Maybe it will be okay.