I hear the bull frogs singing. It’s that time of the year again. I wonder if this was a happy time some years ago. Despite what I know, I still hold on to the possibility that life was once good– and it will be again. I guess I’m writing to myself because I want this possibility to become my reality. I have to keep fighting. I have to sit back, reflect and keep on living. Because life, with all its hardship and confusion, is still life. There are many beautiful things about being who you are, if only we’re gentle enough to truly look at ourselves. I want to be charmed by the possibility that there is love and goodness tucked into every little corner of home. I want to believe in the existence of gardens that carry the scent of love and rain. I want to believe in the possibility that this all means something. That I mean the world to someone. That I am worthy of love and affection.