Here I am breathing. I woke up once again. I wish I was still sleeping. They say sleeping is the cousin of death. I’m not afraid of living or dying. I’m scared of feeling. Loss and suffering. Love and joy. To really live, you must nearly die. I’ve never felt so close to living. There’s a saying in Spanish. "El que tiene miedo a morir, que no nazca". I was born, but why? It’s just another day.