We are everything and yet, only a number.

We are the beauty of the white lies we utter to keep our loved ones' minds at peace. We are the rainy afternoons with latte, a good novel and cafe music. We are the undying spirit, even when the earth shakes and crush us under destroyed buildings, we live on, we build homes again - we forget our pain.

We are the hope we give ourseleves, the rescue of broken hearts and the blind love we thought we knew everything about. We are a war within ourselves, the conflict between our heart and mind, with no one to triumph.

And yet we are a statistic
a "1 in 100 of us will die prematurely because of cancer"
We are a weight, a number on the scales
that haunts young girls till adulthood.
We are an age,
when youth means nothing because to live to old age is itself, nothing but an achievement as suicide rates continue to soar.
We are an exam grade,
when we know that school is simply a race for the stronger to rise over the weak, and friends are only for pretense.

We are everything. And yet, we continue to define ourselves as just a number.