**Look At The Stars

I used to dream about my death. I know it’s morbid but I never thought about how I would die. I could picture my parents and siblings and friends and what they would say. I could see the dress I wore, a little black lace number. My hair was in curls and I had minimal makeup on. As my loved ones would reminisce on my life and who I was, I would rise up from the coffin, alive and confused, as if this was some sick joke. And then I would wake up.

Death is so unusual to me. It’s weird how one minute someone is here and planning for tomorrow but then tomorrow comes and they’re not here and all you’re left with are your memories of yesterdays. You remember how their hand felt in yours. You remember how they would hug and kiss you. You remember the wrinkle…

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