i was not afraid to die, not until i met you. you gave me the life i once had back, the life i've given up just because i don't have the will to live, but not when i met you. you brought me back to life, and to my own surprise death became my terrible nightmare.

now, i fear the unknown tomorrow. i'm afraid to die and leave this world without you. i'm afraid to sleep. i think that if i don't wake up in the morning, it means that you will be left here all alone. what if i died in my dream or, worse, in real life? i can't bear the thought of not having a second to spend with you. i can't bear to think that i won't see you again. i know i can't, and i don't want to die without holding you once again.

i am not afraid of death before, but now i hope that death will not come knocking on my door in the future. i don't want to welcome death, especially now that i want to live. living means being with you, besides you in every step of the way; living is having my own morning coffee in the morning, and morning will never be the same without you. with the life i have now, i wanted to spend every bit of it with you. but my nightmare is always present; it is reminding me that, whether i like it or not, it'll come after me.

after begging to die for a thousand pleas, i am afraid to meet death sooner—not today nor anymore. and if i have to live again, i will love you in every universe, at any time, even if it means that i will come face to face to one of my nightmare.

and if dying means living again to see and feel you again, i am ready to welcome death in no time.