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Just like life itself, there’s really no set way to do things. When I thought of this post, I had no structure in mind. I didn’t think there was a proper structure or any kind of proper structure for that matter, when it’s about life. One of the many things I remember learning throughout my english courses was that the intent of each author, regardless of story line or content, was to express what it meant to be alive. Each and every author, from the past and up until now, use their skills to describe what it means to be human. Every piece of literature you come across is an experience of some sort that has been conceptualized in one work of art. So is there a right or wrong way to explain what it means to be alive? Of course not. The beauty lies in the endless ways in which one can depict life.

Life is short, but is also long.

Some days can drag while some aren’t long enough. Funny thing is, each one is always 24 hours. It’s interesting the way in which each day has equal potential for seemingly endless possibilities. Each person has the same amount of hours, minutes, and seconds as the  next, yet each day seems to be have a completely different

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