What if today was your last? What if tomorrow was just a hope, another chance of life that wouldn't be given to you? Would you seize the moment? Or would you just say "To hell with this shit."?
Now I'm wondering, if today is my last day, my last period of breathing, living, how many people have I hurt? How many people have been disappointed, annoyed by me and simply wishing that death would struck upon me? Have they forgiven me? No, would they even forgive me for my sins towards them?
It's weird, honestly. That how many people is affected by you who are living your life and well, sometimes just thinking about yourself and not others. It might be the teacher who you accidentally ignored to talk to your friend, or your friend that you suddenly ditched to go on a date with your boyfriend. It could be anyone. And sometimes, just sometimes, you are confused as to who would you please, yourself, him or her.
I won't lie and say I'm never affected by some doings of the people around me. That twinge of pain in my chest and the sudden prick in my eyes come often but in time, I learned to ignore it. Ignorance is bliss most of the time. But in time itself, it will come back and haunt you. Like just a moment ago I was reading Before I Fall by Lauren Oliver and it opened my eyes, as memories came rushing back and digging those unanswered question of "What if I only had one day to live? What if I die today? What then?" And hell, it struck me hard and good. And that bring me to this, writing up my tangled up feelings and thoughts, thinking that maybe, just maybe that it will resolve the nerve in the pit of my stomach.
But more questions came, one by one they rise up and somehow they all feel familiar. Like I once threw them away at some faraway island and now they rise back up demanding for answers. I feel helpless, drowning somehow with the questions all around me, taunting me, teasing me to no end. Then a sob came, tightening my throat and burning my nose, followed by tears. Big fat tears. And as the tears fall away, a series of questions suddenly pops out of nowhere, vanishing the others; would anyone care? Would anyone even remember me after I'm gone? Or would they just be like "Hey do you remember that girl? She was...nevermind, I forgot," like I'm just some faint memory, a fading memory? Or would I be remembered for eternity? But I'm just a daughter, just a friend and nothing more, nothing special that deserves a place in their sacred memory box.
Truthfully, I'm not ready. I'm just not ready to give away, to let go of all my firsts. My first day of college, my first job, my first home, my first baby, my first car, my first taco, my first bubble tea, my first time to do this, do that. There's so many things for me to do. But then, when are you ready for death? Never, we are never ready for death.
If I do die tomorrow, and today is the last. Then I just had my last breakfast, my last lunch, my last dinner, my last day of school, my last time with my friends, my last family night, my last day wandering the earth. My last breath. Last. My last. My last of everything. And it sounds so surreal, perhaps sickening to know that I'll never get a chance to do anything again. Now I know what they say, 'Live today like it's your last,' because we have to grab every chance that we get. To hell with regret, make everything magical enough to be remembered and only then would you be remembered.