Frustrations and miseries could never have been offset by any form of abundance or joy; they befall and kill, regardless of the life one has lived, not prefaced nor foreshadowed.

There has never been a year more relevant than this to have our lessons learned. We shared every moment of fear and grief, couldn’t help but hope and pray. Nihilistic thoughts became less remote and more accountable, yet non-believers began seeking prophetic signs and anticipating miracles in no time.

Time, in this year of confine and distortion, became meaningfully meaningless. We were all looking forward to a plot twist, but every time it was just another climax over climax that eventually numbed us.

Numbers, the afflicted and the dead. Whose sacred deer did who kill? Aren’t these sacrifices enough for whichever god to end the plague?

But why, do we all wish to set sail once again? What is it truly that we are all rowing against?

Wasn’t Thersites awfully honorable for putting into word what the common soldiers were thinking? Wasn’t it true that only the great got to be remembered?

Then what are we, such helpless creatures, to be involved in such catastrophe, blamed and struck for refusing to fight?

Our own lives must be the strangest thing that could have ever happened to us. The harder life seems to be, the harder we live it.

Now that we have survived, let’s just carry on, for there is no justified reason for all shits we’ve lived through to go down the drain. May us, the all-singing, all-dancing craps in this ever-confusing world, find love and peace in days to come. And may peace prevail on earth.