The Morning I Didn’t Wake Up

One morning, I wouldn’t wake up and suddenly the world would fall in love with me.

Not because I had done something extraordinary.
Not because I had changed.
But because I had disappeared.

Funny how absence sharpens presence. How silence echoes louder than sound ever could.

They’d remember the things I used to say words they’d once scrolled past. They’d re-read the messages left on “seen,” or the photos half-liked, half-forgotten. And somehow, I’d be beautiful in their memory. Easier to love in stillness than in struggle.

Because the living version of me was too messy. Too loud, too quiet. Too emotional, too closed off. Too much or not enough depending on the day. But the version that doesn’t wake up anymore? She’s perfect. She’s poetry.

The truth is, we wait too long to love each other loudly. We hesitate, we hold back. We bury praise beneath pride, and admiration beneath apathy. We save our sweetest words for eulogies.

But I don't want a love story written in past tense. I want to be heard when I’m still speaking. Held when I’m still breaking. Celebrated while I’m still breathing.

So today, I choose to live like I matter now. To tell people they matter before they don't wake up. To stop waiting for a tragedy to feel deeply. Because I don’t want the world to fall in love with me only after I’m gone.

Until next time,

Tasfiq Tareq