you’re a baby.
then you’re a teenager and have your first dimple.
then you don’t want to be called a teenager, you hate your parents for whatever reasons, even worse, you hate the whole world.
then you actually grow up, turning 25, then you realize you haven’t start your life yet, you feel miserable.
then you don’t wanna be called a grown up and wish that you can turn into a kid once more.
then you met someone.
then you marry that someone.
then you have kids with that someone. your life changed.
then, somehow, you have to deal with a lot, i mean, AY LOT of problems in your life (finance, families, bills, kids, etc., etc.,)
then your kids grow old.
and if you’re lucky, you watch them grow old and have kids of their own–your grand children.
then you realize how fast life pass you by.
then, you look up the sky with a wrinkled skin and ask yourself a question.
“Have I lived my life?”
and somehow, deep down your heart, you hear a soft whisper ;
“When I already gone, I want, someone, somehow, would say ‘she was here’ with a heart warming memories of me. I want to be remembered,”
then another year passes by.
then one fine day, your kids sit around you, laughing happily, while your grand children wander around your house playing hide and seek, and maybe, tomorrow is your funeral.
you hold your breath and smile,