No Summer

You don’t always have to expect summer during summer. Sometimes, winter arrives unexpectedly, catching you idle or heading towards an uphill climb. But the weather doesn’t matter—sometimes, you simply have to endure hardship, the uncomfortable conditions that make you human. These are the experiences that teach us the truth: verily, after hardship comes ease.

Writing, as a literary device, is a form of selfless expression—but it can also be demonic, driven by the most mysterious and unspoken rules. How do you write about injustice when all you long for is fairness? How do you climb a mountain when you wish to stay at the bottom of the hill? Or embrace summer when winter insists on making its presence felt? It’s okay—really okay—to touch the rain or feel the sting of hail, knowing they will eventually fade into oblivion.

Life is about stepping into discomfort, trying new things, doing the impossible, taking risks, and sometimes getting punched in the face. Writing is like an illness that paradoxically rewards us with health—you can’t truly be healthy without first experiencing sickness. You can’t awaken your inner human without first confronting your inner demon. And you can’t fully appreciate joy without shedding your tears, or love without navigating through moments of self-hate.

Writing is an omen of your complete humanity—a glimpse of the self you hope to embody, so you don’t lose yourself and become a mechanical being.