I’ve lived with my sick mother, taking care of her the best I can. Being the only child, the responsibility rests on my shoulders, and sometimes it feels like I’m walking through fire after fire, but still I refuse to give up.
I live with her now in a small apartment, struggling to keep up with rent, yet holding on to hope. I try to find light in the simple joys—watching movies, listening to music, singing, writing poems, swimming, even playing basketball. But still, when the night falls, there is an emptiness beside me.