Ever since my mother got sick…
I spent more time at home.
As if I already knew…
we didn't have much time left.
She loved me.
And I loved her.
She wanted me to go to university.
To graduate.
To become someone.
Something.
But she didn't know…
that I had already become nobody.
Because of her…
I started trying to change.
I picked up my books.
Started studying again.
But it was hard.
It felt like life had become an even heavier burden.
Sometimes…
I just wanted to disappear.
To stop existing.
Inside the house…
we all pretended everything was okay.
My sisters.
My father.
Everyone kept living their lives.
And my mother…
she still cooked.
Cleaned.
Took care of the house.
But she got tired so quickly.
I would watch her lie down on the bed…
and fall asleep.
And I…
cried.
I mourned you while you were still alive, mom…
but who will mourn me?
The thoughts kept coming back.
The desires kept pulling me down again.
I picked up my phone.
Then put it back down.
I didn't want to return to that life.
But I needed something…
to escape reality.
I wasn't strong enough for all of this.
One night…
while she was sleeping…
I took a blanket and covered her.
I stood there looking at her.
And that's when I realized…
how much I love her.
How much I failed her.
How much time I wasted…
in sin.
Instead of being home.
I'm scared to even think about it…
do we still have time left?
Or has everything already come to an end?
Watching her slowly fade away…
made me realize how much of my own life I had already wasted.