It was a curse. To be honest, yes it was one. Not being able to talk to you for hours that is. Not being able to listen to your honey sweet voice, which honored words when it chose them to express your feelings. Not being able to stare into your ocean deep eyes and drown in them slowly, inch by inch. Not being able to caress your feather soft cheeks, which turned pink every time my fingers brushed across lovingly. Not being able to feel your hair on my face every time you took me in a comforting embrace. Not being able to hold your hand when we had long walks on starry nights talking about nothing but everything, both at same time. Not being able to make fun of you whenever you did something as silly as getting chocolate all over your face while eating it, and we both ended up laughing till our bellies hurt. Not being able to fight with you over what movie to watch for the night or what flavor of ice cream is better. Not being able to intertwine my fingers with yours just to feel safe in a sea of strangers whenever we went out. Not being able to peck your lips whenever I wished to, which sometimes ended in you rolling your eyes because it didn’t make any sense in that moment. Not being able to woo you whenever you turned upset over some petty issue and sat with a pout in a corner. Not being able to go on a fun party with you and get all wild, dancing till our lungs burnt. Not being able to spend hours beside you in peaceful silence, doing nothing in general. Not being able to place my head in your lap while you sang in that angelic voice of yours. Not being able to feel your warmth against my skin as we laid next to each other, all cuddled up. Not being able to understand what’s wrong when you first showed the symptoms. Not being able to conceal my worries while driving to the doctor’s. Not being able to stop the fear from melting out of my eyes in the form of tears when we first came to know of this deadly disease of yours. Not being able to stay strong enough for the both of us, breaking down every time I saw you on that wretched hospital bed in those gloomy walls. Not being able to ease your pain while you struggled for every single breathe to be taken within. Not being able to do anything when life was slowly being squeezed out of your beautiful body. Not being able to stop myself from going all numb while watching you die. Not being able to feel my own heartbeat which once rose every time you were around. Not being able to sleep ever since without crying to myself. Not being able to speak anything to anyone because no one hears me out like you used to. Not being able to do any work because nothing is okay without you. Not getting used to you being snatched away from my life so brutally. Not being able to live anymore and just turn into a breathing corpse waiting to collapse, it was a curse. And I am still living with it.