I find myself amused by the idea of reincarnation. Maybe it’s because I’ve been watching too many Asian series, where lives repeat, and love finds its way back. I wonder if it’s real. If I die, do I get to return as something else? Is it endless, this coming back?

If it’s true, I imagine the next lifetime as a softer one. A version of me who is extremely happy, born into a different story, with a different set of parents and a different destiny. Maybe in that life, I am fearless. Perhaps I would grow up knowing I am well-loved, without having to question it. Maybe care comes easily there.

But I also have so many things I love in this lifetime. People, moments, versions of myself I didn’t expect to cherish. I wonder—will I get them again in another life? I hope so. I hope the things that feel like home find me again, even in different forms.

For now, maybe I can’t have everything. Maybe this life doesn’t allow it all to happen at once. But I still hope. If not here, then maybe in the next one. And until then, I will keep loving what I have, even if some parts remain unfinished.