Sitting in the pool balcony on a gloomy Thursday afternoon, after just finishing a 4000-meter swim workout. My red Baruch spiral notebook is on my lap and a Hunter College pen is in my hand.

My body is exhausted, but my pen continues to scribble the sounds across the page. While lamenting about my misfortune in being unable to nap after such an odious practice, I try to reflect on special occasions in my life, the ones that really affected me and shaped me into the person I am today.

But there are just too many. Writing my monologue on whatever first comes to my mind would probably not be the best idea ever. They say the saddest things in life are the things that one remembers.