I just finished watching a Lebanese-Swedish movie, Zozo. It is about a Lebanese boy, with the name Zozo, during the civil war, who gets separated from his family and ends up in Sweden. In the beginning there is this scene where the father is mad at his son for trying to get his mother's attention while they were following the news about the war on TV,  while the boy had just finished crafting a piece of wood and wanted to show it to his mother.

There are many times in life, you ask yourself, is it really worth it?You ask this when you see someone die, when you see the outcome of an aweful bloody struggle. When your passion for something just dries up. When your passion for someone just dries up. When you suffer neglect after giving away so much. When you suffer betrayal after giving away so much. When you are in the dark for so long that you forget the mere existence of light, that when someone mentions it you can't even recognize the meaning.

In the last few days I was informed that someone I knew, knew from a long time, committed suicide. A first time I ever encounter the fact that someone I knew committed suicide. I knew her for a few years back, a normal Egyptian girl, her father died in her early teenage.

For the first time I just listened to a blog post, a podcast, narrated by a dear friend. A warm voice, emotional music, giving me so much nostalgia about so many chances I missed, skills I could have developed, people I could have made friends, places I wanted to be attached to. How I thought of many things so lightly and how I realize now how important they really are.