The breeze is gentle, almost giving me the ecstasy of human touch as it collides into my body.

The lake right next to me isn’t too tranquil, and isn’t angry either, emitting just the perfect white noise necessary for one to relax.

In the table behind me, there’s what I assume as two Russians or Portuguese speaking a tad too loud, but their indistinguishable babble is dulled by the piece of piano that I tune to.

I’m smiling, care-free, and nothing like the mess that I have recently become.

A book tells me that it is okay when things fall apart, and with the breeze and the water next to me, I can’t seem to object.

I know my dark thoughts will come back, maybe even sooner than I anticipate, but for the moment, I am content.

I am content not to whisper out loud in utter desperation, “God, I want to live”, whilst really meaning to ask to die; not think of how a burden it has become to continue to survive…

Today, amidst the breeze and the chatter, between the sounds of the water and the piano vibes, I choose to live.