It’s weird how I didn’t even get a chance to have a last talk with you, how I couldn’t even ask you to stay. You just remain as a memory. When we were kids and used to play when you visited and your weird hairstyles and your award trophies and fighting with you, that’s all that remains. Sometimes I wonder how it could have been if I could have talked to you for one last time, if I could have asked you to stay. But then how could I even ask you to stay? Could I ask you to stay and live the remaining whatever years of your life in this cruel and lonely world? Did I have the right to ask you to stay even when I knew that you’ll have no one at your side when you wake up from your seemingly unending slumber? Could I ask you to stay even when I know you have seen the realities much before you were meant to see them? When I know in the age of sunshine and flowers you had darkness, could I still want you to stay? Could I want you to come back and live the same stark naked reality when you have the chance to start afresh? Could I want you to face demons inside you when you can just be a kid afraid of the demons lying under his bed? I wonder if God gave you a choice as you looked upon your own lifeless body lying in front of your eyes. I wonder what you would have said. I wonder if I could have changed your answer and I wonder if I should have even if I could.

PS: How personal death experiences leave you wondering in a puddle of tears :”(

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