It was a hot, tumultuous month. Streets and avenues were teeming with people, armed with whatever they could find, protesting. As usual, the government turned a deaf ear. They closed their eyes and tried to blind the uninformed public with their own media, essentially replacing reality with a fabricated one.

This ignited the fury of the protesters and sparked a civil war. Many people, especially the youth, lost their lives at the hands of their fellow countrymen during this internal conflict. Looking back now, despite the fact that we all belong to the same race and share the same planet, the terms that represent our commonality are always inaccurate. The concept of a shared race is flawed; if it existed, we wouldn't be killing each other. The notion of a compatriot is also false; if we were truly countrymen, we wouldn't be taking each other's lives.

I feel like I'm overthinking this. I've always been like that. I've always pondered things excessively, and that's what led me to participate in the protests that year and get arrested by the police. If I hadn't overthought things, I might not have spent three years of my life in prison. Anyway, it's 2022 now. And today, I'm about to enter the second half of my life. The post-prison era.