To love life—to love it even when the sun chooses not to shine over the darkest places of our minds, to love it even when we fathom the unfathomable, even when your heart spills nothing but sadness, your chest feeling heavier than it had ever been, to love it even when everything grows to be unbearable and you slowly dissipate into the vast emptiness. You begin to ponder how you would save yourself, how you would pick up the fragments of what had shattered inside. The mirror in front of you revealed the scars of yesterday, the possible bruises of tomorrow, but it never obstructed the idea of looking at yourself. Self-love and love, itself, is what keeps me going.