"This can't be happening" I thought, staring at a wall, trying to process the events of the
previous day. I sat next to my best friend, Maryam, her presence being my silent comfort. The
muffled chatter of the guests here for "support" could be heard, as we finally managed to
escape the chaos and retreat to my room.
We were both quiet at first, Maryam understanding I needed space to collect my thoughts.
After a few minutes she turned to look at me, concern visible in her eyes. "Say something,
please. You're worrying me."
"When I was a little girl, all I wanted was to grow up" I murmured out of nowhere, avoiding her
gaze.
"It almost felt like I would have all the freedom in the world when I grew up" I went on.
"Freedom meant being able eat, sleep and play as I pleased, no restrictions no rules. That's
what I envisioned as perfect"
I said, my eyes finally meeting hers, she didn't say anything, but I could feel her silently urging
me to continue. She understood I was venting.
I paused, avoiding eye contact as I continued,
"I have all these things now, but they don't matter anymore." I admitted, my voice now low.
"Its almost as if we humans are never satisfied, when we have the time to value people, things
and the little moments of life we don't but, when they are gone is when we realize how
valuable it all was. The pain of missing them deepens this realization and guilt."
My voice cracked as I tried to blink back my tears.
"Why? Why does it have to be like this?"
Her eyes softened and a small, sad smile crossed her face as she held my hand in comfort.
There was no judgment.
"This is life, Amina" She said gently. "Something that truly starts when we reach our breaking
points, a time when we realize how cruel people, and even our own existence can be, its like a
brand new maze we all have to silently solve on our own, and if we fail, we feel like we will lose
everything."
I could feel the weight of her words.
I nodded and looked away, letting my tears flow now, this was my safe space — an escape
from the people that pretended to care.
Her gaze was steady and calm as she continued to speak.
"This world is a momentary illusion, something temporary. The biggest proof of this is death.
The end of everything, when we are forgotten and alone. All our joy, pain and fears no longer
matter."
I breathed out, frustrated and confused.
"So what's your point?" I asked her, my eyes narrowing.
"My point is, in our life we see people come and go — death being the hardest departure of
all. People completely disappearing almost as if they never existed. The belongings and
memories they leave behind being the only reminder of their existence. It's sad, I know, but
don't you think there's a beauty to it?"
She softly smiled.
I finally understood.
This is life — a journey that ends when we reach the goal of disappearing but making sure we
leave traces of our existence behind. If things didn't end, would we truly hold the same value
for them? Would anything really matter?