From the moment they’re born, all people eventually die.
They just aren’t born for the purpose of dying.
As a child, I realized that truth faster than anyone else.
“The weak die. Because they are weak, because they are pitiful, Heaven takes pity and lets them die.”
Is that why Mother died?
At the time, I couldn’t bring myself to say it aloud.
My father’s words sounded too cold—too solitary.
Like if I approached carelessly, he’d cut me.
“You must grow strong. Stronger.”
What is strength?
