One More Day

One More Day


one-more-day
One More Day

Why does it matter when ALL MEN MUST DIE; and I am living my life with my own terms and will die with my own deed. Only my actions will take my life, nothing else can take my life.These are the most inspirational words by any smoker. The number of young smokers is increasing because they motivate others to try it. And if you got one who smokes but keeps you away from it, you are quite lucky to have him. It’s amazing when you talk to a smoker and listen to the reasons he smokes, for an instance you get motivated to take the cigarette in your fingers and taste the thing which is killing thousands of people per year but still no one can quit it.

What type of intoxication does it have that makes you destroy your own life? Have you ever tried to ask smokers about this? If you have close friends who smoke I am sure that you have attempted to know the reason at least once. If you carefully listen to them you will realize that even they don’t know exactly why they do it every day. Maybe the subconscious mind makes them do it. Or wait, I will tell you. We control our actions, continuously from the moment we wake up till the last moment you are awake. We command ourselves to act according to our environment; we act differently with our parents and we change ourselves in the company of our friends. We try to control our present and the future.

In this unfair world where we don’t get what we deserve, we constantly try to get them with having a smile on our face. We try to keep our companions happy no matter how sad we are. We try to hold every broken piece of our life no matter how small it is. We tell our parents that everything is going great no matter how buried we are. In this battle of dominating everything around us, we want something that makes us fight every day, every moment. And smokers see that thing in cigarettes; they live freely for a moment when they smoke. Of course they can control this habit, but they don’t want to, they want some period of the day where they do control nothing. They let go themselves when their subconscious demands them to go. Serenity they call it.

A few weeks ago, I did a dance show. My friend called me, he said he needed me to be in his team; and I do things for my friends. There were five boys and six girls and was the sixth boy. First couple of days I didn’t like that place, maybe because I was new in them. They didn’t know me but they knew each other. Some of them were from different town gathered just for this show. But then I started to make friends and soon they came very close to me. We practiced for hours every day, I enjoyed their company, and they did too. It was pleasure being with them. Every day I used to go there with full excitement filled within me. Then the D-day arrived, we performed very well as expected. After the performance we were in a room that was allotted to us for keeping our belongings and resting if needed. In that room we spent about 2-3 hours clicking our pictures, dancing, eating and doing fun. After such tiresome day, everyone was so excited that we didn’t realize how fast the time was moving. Then it was the time to leave, everyone was normal, even I said formal good bye to everyone like I did for entire last week. But when I was riding my bike, heading to my home, I realized that it was my last day with them. I knew I could meet them, but not with the whole team, as we used to everyday. In an instance a sort of sadness filled in my heart. I reached home, and I slept. The next morning, it was all gone, I felt like it was just a dream.

All the days I have spent became a memory. I missed the enthusiasm in me. It was just like a mirage that has gone. At that time, I felt like that thing should have continued for few more days. I was missing all the crazy things we did during practice, taunting each other, laughing when someone does wrong steps. There was a girl in our group, a beautiful fabulous dancer; she never talked so much with other people. Always sitting quite, observing other people. But at the last day she was way too cheerful, she was more active than other people. At that time I thought that her excitement is making her act so energetic. But now I think that maybe she knew that was the last day of this team. And I realized that when it was too late. I always wanted to talk to her, just wanted to know her. I always kept wondering what thought she used to play in her mind sitting at the corner in recess time. But I always waited for the right time, and without concerning me the time ended. I wish I could have one more day with all of them. I just want to apprise them that I really enjoyed their company; they all were good people who gave me good memories; memories that will be with me till the last day of mine. All I want is one more day.

Maybe this kind of feelings will again hit me when I will realize that my education is over. When, I will wake up on a day after my farewell at college. I will wish for one more day. To tell some people how much they mean to me, to tell some people that I always hated them, to talk to those people with whom I always wanted to, to spend some time with the people I admire, to tell the teachers that no matter how many times I ignored their instructions but I always respected them, to tell all my crushes that their presence had made this college a better place for me. One more day! Maybe this sentiment will hit me again and again. I cannot predict how many times I will suffer this, but I can imagine the time I will have this emotion for the last time. On my deathbed!

One day while doing daily routine at my old age I will suddenly fall sick and loose my consciousness. Next time when I wake up I will see myself surrounded by my family members in a hospital. I will realize that time has come, for the next few days I will be at same place waiting for life to end. I would be resting on a bed, waking up in the morning will just mean to open my eyes, watching the same people every day till I die, struggling to remember the taste of every delicious thing I am now eating. While sleeping; thinking about whether I will open my eyes again or not. Maybe physically I will be at my weakest, but I would be at peak of wisdom. I will not tell my children or grandchildren how to live, because they would realize everything about life when the time comes. If allowed by doctors I will do casual talks to the people around me. While closing my eyes I will wish to wake up again, to feel better, I will wish to get well no matter how close I stand to death. I won’t be wishing for life to do any more adventures, I will just wish to talk to my family, and tell them that they are the reason I want to live for. I will like to spend some time with my old friends; I will like to contact the forgotten people who made my childhood. I will wish to tell each and every person I encountered in my life that my life would have not been the same without you. I will wish for just one more day to visit my favorite places that filled the joy in my teenage. While fighting for the life, I will not be regretting anything, because no matter when I die, I will think that it is the longest possible time I could live. Rather than the smokers who will think that they could have lived for few more months if they would have listened to their loved ones. They could have lived more days watching their kids grow, their friends grow older, sharing their experiences with their childhood buddies, telling the stories told by their parents to their grandchildren, eating some last bites of delicious food made by their wife, maybe visiting couple of more new places, most of all some more time to recall the things they have done in their last 60 years; and writing them if they like sharing. Major part of their mind will be filled with this guilt when they will be at the deathbed, no matter how much serenity they get now because of every puff they pull out of the cigarette. And why does it matter, when things makes you feel good but ends up making you regret it at the end.

 

 

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