To love, you have to be loved. But what is love in the face of a planet that is corrupted by ignorance and want? Is love the thing we all crave but cannot have? Is it the key to a life that is content and a life that leaves us happy enough to be able to willingly leave it? To love is a choice. To find it is fate. Everything in between is just worthless.

To have a family is like having a life-long rock. You can always lean against it for support. And the best thing about rocks, are that they never die. Unless you choose to destroy them.

To have the best friend is to find the person who brings out the best in you. It's the person that picks you up in the hardest of times. Your guidance, your light, your person. A part of who you are. So if you lose this person, what do you become?

To live with regrets is the worst thing you could do to yourself. Regret is an ugly thing that feigns in the soul of those who are too weak to face is. Regret is obnoxious. Regret is telling. Regret claws at you from the flesh, leaving a mark of shame and remembrance. Regret is the crashing storm and drowning ship, but it's actually a huge nothing that everyone fears.

So how do you overcome all of this? To live a happy life you have to have love, family, friends, and no regrets. But these things aren't compatible. We can't have them all. You have to make some sort of sacrifice. Sometimes, to have a family, you have to lose a friend. Sometimes in order to let yourself become vulnerable enough to truly love, you make regrets along the way. Perhaps, you hurt the person who were trying to protect the most. Let down those who really mattered. Or it might even be that you did something so horrible that it makes you a completely different person to who you were before it.

Then, all the confusion and all the mess left untouched and unsolved in your history book becomes too much, and you fall down this rabbit hole of the countless alternative paths you could've taken in that single moment. Maybe then, if you made the right decision, you wouldn't be so dissatisfied with your fate.

But there's always that voice in the back of your head, ringing like an sinister chant that just never stops. What if these things you've done make you a person unqualified for forgiveness? What if they make you, well, not you anymore? You'd never be viewed the same if you confessed to your sins. You couldn't possibly own up to these things. Let them out of your chest. Admit to them. So then...

Would it be better to speak or to simply die?