About today

If these eyes could catch glimpses of the future, what would he have done? 

If every step could have been taken without mistake,

If every wound could have been dodged before it bled, how different would it all be?

Maybe he would have made better choices, spoken less, swallowed words that never needed to leave his mouth. Maybe he would have learned faster, hurt slower, become a name worth remembering.

He would have spared his parents’ silent tears, held onto friends before they scattered into dust, kept his own longings from rotting away. Maybe he would have prevented even one pain from sinking its teeth into him.

He would have cried harder, laughed louder, understood sooner that life chooses its victims — and no matter how you struggle, it drags you where it wants.

Some things might even have turned out right, if only by accident.

He would have hugged his uncles, his sister, his grandmother, his dog — left a last smile before the world stole the chance to offer another. And even without the words he never found, he would have already said: it was unconditional.

He would have stood behind every reckless choice of every broken friend, shown them that all he ever wanted was for them to have the courage he could barely muster for himself — to live the life he had built for them inside his dying dreams.

He would have made his parents see — he was never what they wanted, never what they dreamed — but whatever he was, whatever he became, it beat with the heart they unknowingly built, a heart brutal, honest, and painfully real.

He would have understood sooner that family isn’t blood. It’s whoever stitches you back together when you’re nothing but pieces. No word could capture what they meant to him — not then, not now.

He would have shown — that even when he was cold, even when he cut too deep, all he ever wanted was something good, something pure — and that maybe, just maybe, the ones he lost along the way could have stayed, if he hadn’t been who he was.

If these eyes could have seen the future, maybe he would have drowned in rivers of regret.

Or maybe he would have smiled bitterly, clapping once for the lonely courage packed into a soul that was never meant to be saved.

May fate guide me — to wherever my last breath finally forgets me.

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