The first time we met, we were fighting with ourselves to stay alive. What a melancholic sight, wrapped in bandages and slit scars on your wrists.

Your shaved head reminded me of the triumph of war with yourself. But eyes sparkle with sadness of a lost war.

Then we were best friends all of a sudden. Talking about books and songs we loved, of lost love and how our bucket lists would never have crossed out to-do wishes; how we badly wished we...