“And once the storm is over you won’t remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won’t even be sure, in fact, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm you won’t be the same person who walked in. That’s what this storm’s all about.” 

— Haruki Murakami, _Kafka on the Shore_

I think about this a lot. There are so many days where every bit of sunlight feels blocked out, no warmth shining through the clouds. But if you keep struggling through the days, fighting for change, eventually something has to give. Whether you get used to the rain, or the storm really passes, it doesn’t really matter. Because you can get through it. And once you do, you won’t be the same miserable person anymore. 

Fuck fate. Fuck neurochemistry. Fuck circumstances. Fuck the gods. Keep struggling.