The sharp knife of a short life.

It seems that these past few months, news of deaths are somehow like dust in the wind. It's just everywhere. Maybe this is just me overreacting over a matter I'm really uncertain of, but that's what I feel.

On the 19th of April, a boy had a fatal accident at the Lata Kijang Waterfall and the worst thing is that his body was stuck in the water for a mere 6-7 hours before they finally got him out. And that boy happened to be my first cousin.

Him being the same age as me has somehow affected how I look at his death. It's awkward to see someone you grew up with, suddenly he's gone. Me and him, we're not close, but these things somehow has a weird impact on me. It's like you finished a good book, when I say a good book, it's not just a book written by a famous author, but a book that when you read, you feel like you're the one living that life. The type that you somehow feel you can seriously relate to yourself. That kind of feeling.

It's the kind of loss you wish not to turn back time to have it back, but to turn back time just to relive all those moments you ever had with it. It's that utterly grotesque feelings you just can't overcome. It heals with time, or at least it usually does.

When I saw his body lying so helpless, I felt the tense, but I'm not one who shed tears very easily, I don't cry at the smallest matter. But the moment I saw his only brother covering his face trying to hide his tears, I could not help but shed some tears. I just felt his loss.

Al-Fatihah, Muhammad Zulfadhli bin Izhar, may Allah shower you with His blessings and may He place you among the ones He loves. It was a great 19 years knowing you. Last but not least, I don't always say this, but I do love my family. All of them. ♥