But soon after, I realized I was losing my path again—uninterested in life, slipping back into darkness. That’s when the book caught my attention again. I opened it and read everything I had written so far. And it hit me: whatever I wrote was actually something undiscovered.

Our life is actually undiscovered. We never know what’s next.

As I kept reading, more and more realizations struck me.

Each page held a version of me I had forgotten—a girl who was hurting, yes, but also trying.