Aman Basra

Maybe you’ll die, knowing you haven’t just survived, but actually lived.

In this house, we don’t cry over boys. No, if anything, we make boys cry over us. And they will cry as they realize the significance of what they lost and all of the foregone opportunities they could have had.

You won’t know when it’s happening. You won’t know what you are losing when it’s happening.

It’s about time someone told you how amazing you are. And that internal voice in your own head doesn’t count.

I know your vitality will come back, I can sense its pending return.

I want you to choose love in every moment and every interaction. Kindness and compassion are your weapons of survival in a world that may care little for you.

This is a flower for you, whoever that may be.

Self-doubt was absent from our vocabulary. We were resilient in our certainty.

It’s about time you put yourself first.

Trust that God has a greater plan for this ordeal. Trust that God needs you to experience this pain so you can build strength and resilience.

Do not hesitate.

I knew it when we first met. I knew you were never meant to be mine.

While others may be apprehensive of such degree of kindness, she remains unfathomed and chooses to love unconditionally.

Place your hand in the palm of my own. Do you feel it? Do you feel the warmth? This is not mine. This is entirely yours. This is the power of your faith.

I say enough of repeatedly devaluing myself. I say enough of allowing those not worthy of my adoration into my heart.

Let me be your sun even. Let me be the certitude of positivity that rectifies your pain.

You wouldn’t let me go even when my friends came to retrieve me. Just stay where you are, were the words you kept telling me.

Dear strong girl, it’s okay; it’s okay to let the reigns go.