I miss the days when I was just a little boy, only able to see the good in everything. I didn't have to worry about what I would eat; my mom would breastfeed me, even if I was crying about an ant bite. I miss finding joy in the simple, seemingly meaningless things that caught my eye. I remember laughing at how the tap flowed, how the rooster walked, or how the ants moved in a line. Back then, my life revolved around a simple cycle of sleeping, waking up, and eating. Now, I find myself in a stage where I can't even define who I am. I’m forced to rely on my intellectual capabilities, drawing from the experiences I had when everything seemed to have one clear meaning. Now, I must decipher the beauty in life's complexities. The only appealing aspect of this is the uncertainty of life, with the hope that tomorrow will always be better than today, as long as we are alive.