YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL

Many a time when I was alive and kicking well, I have heard about majestic things on Death. The definition of death varies with the opinion of people. Some say it's a phenomenon of traveling of one’s soul to another body while others say it's the beginning of the end. Death can be beautiful as well as sorrowful depending upon an individual. If we decide to embrace it with all the wonderful and awesomeness then it receives you with all its positive might. But if you decide to be it as hell then it grants you what you wish for.

I have never believed that Death could be wonderful and believing in something that seems intangible was a waste of time.

The hospital feels rushed and stressed as they hurriedly stroll down my bleeding body to any vacant operation theatre. Doctors are shouting and nurses are running around. I am lost and vacant as I stand near my unconscious body. My chiseled jawline had always accentuated my youthfulness and made many turn the head of the passerby. I have always been proud of my appearance and undermine many that weren’t blessed with one.

As I observe now, the handsome is shrouded by the stench of death indifferent to those I undermined. My lips are frighteningly blue deprived of all the redness that once held dearly to it. My consciousness is drifting away as if I have been blasted by a high-speed water gun, as it swiftly floats away from my body. As this experience dominates me, the wonder every dying person speaks, I can sense it.

When I was fifteen years old, my father used to take me hiking. Being an introvert, I used to adamantly disagree with his request. But after much pleading and bribing, I used to give up and join his expedition. My father would relax and feel much happier when he was pumping his muscle to reach the summit. That was the only time when I used to feel closer to him. Although the hike used to cost my energy, the cold yet freshness of the surrounding was worth the sacrifice.

With my consciousness fluttering aimlessly, I have reached that exact summit I used to visit with my Dad. The place in my memory had many trees and novelty but as I am standing and observing everything, the trees had degraded and the fresh grasses that grew and moved to the rhythm to wind have been mowed and cut clean.