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It’s never too late to live.

Many a time in life, we lose track. We lose track of who we are. We lose track of who we want to be. We lose track of the love we get. We lose track of the love we owe. We begin focussing on hatred more. We begin obsessing over trifles unnecessary. We begin losing track of life in a hurry.

We remember how rudely a friend asked us to leave her alone. We lose track of how dearly she’d been hugging us all our life.

We remember having been scolded by our mother for not having scored well in exams. We lose track of the times she encouraged us to reach for the stars.

We remember our grandparents’ childish behavior, troubling us with trifles. We lose track of the blessings they have always been showering upon us.

We remember the times we were hurt by someone we cannot help but love unconditionally. We lose track of the love we receive from their end.

We remember having sacrificed our sleep. We lose track of the book we read that night.

We remember we’re aging. We remember that one day, with nothing more to ask for, we’ll die. But in the process of dying, we lose track of life.

Life’s like a book. With every turn of a page, we find something new. Sometimes, we have it written for us. Sometimes, we’re set free to write. Only if we could turn each page not with monotony, but with a pinch of curiosity. Not with passivity but with a pinch enthusiasm. Not with ill will, but with a pinch of love. Not with a step towards death but with one towards a new life.

I wonder what you’d say to him on the day of judgement. The day he’ll embrace you in all your faults, in all your corruption. He leaves the decision to you. Whether you want to rush and embrace him with a smile or stand there soiled in the shame of your own actions.

I wonder what you’d say…

You’d given me sacks full of love, I was too proud to share it with others.

You’d given me courage to forgive, I was too tough to put it all behind me.

You’d given me hope, I was too pessimistic to chase a dream.

You’d given me life, I was too busy dying.

And here I stand  with vengeance, hatred, horror and a sunken spirit. You sent me with a purpose, to win what they call life. I defeated your purpose because I was too busy dying.

Reality strikes hard. But it’s never too late to love, it’s never too late to live.

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