Morbid but real

Grey's Anatomy always put weird thoughts in my head and it has its way of turning this heart of mine to mush.

I watched. Stopped. Pondered. What will I do if you're gone(read: die)? It will be too late to tell you all the things that matter. Things that I wouldn't even dream of telling you when you're with me. Things I take for granted that I am able to tell you tomorrow, or maybe the day after tomorrow or a few months/years down the road.

Literally, what will I do? Tears won't bring you back. Screaming myself hoarse, willing you to come back, will prove no use. People will say move on. I don't know but what I do know is the pain will be unbearable. Pain that will totally rip me apart. Pain mixed with regret.

So why do we always hold back when we're still alive? Must we always take for granted we're gonna have another tomorrow? Why do we let pride get the better of us most of the time? Do we really need to mask our fears all the time?

Simple things do matter. Simple words matter. They just do.