It seems the only times I am ever to find the right words to write are the times when I am standing on the edge of a dock while a tsunami is headed straight towards me; when I am in the midst of a flood triggered by a hurricane; when I am lost in the most obscuring fog of the early morning. For whatever reason, despondency sets the poet within me alight while all indifference ever seems to do is douse my lambency and snuff out my flames.

Therefore, I have resigned myself to feel as deeply as I possibly can. Suffering is as inevitable and unavoidable as the rain. If it is absolutely to come, I will greet it with open books, blank pages and poised pens. I shall relish every tear, indulge in every heartbreak and savour sweet disappointment. Why not bask in the sadness if something beautiful can come from it?