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You grasp tightly unto something you want to have, even when you're bleeding, fleeing, barely breathing. You embrace the agony that this run is inflicting in you, ignoring its fatal ravages. You want just a little, not a heyday, not to cachinnate out of joy—but life.
Because every single time, you still wish for a decade, a year, a day, or even just a millisecond to stay. You want life, you want to live. Regardless of how tedious it is, even if it's just a matter of a heartbeat, or as fast as a raindrop, you want to live.
Thus, here you are, seeking for a purpose. But if you fail to find any, be your own purpose. You are a reason to live.
