If it wasn’t for that “what if” factor, I would have probably had a relatively peaceful life. But there was always “what if” in the way. “What if this could be different?”

“Curiosity killed the cat (and taught a dog how to act)” a friend of mine once told me. A friend who is no more – as if he never existed. And if it wasn’t for that “what if” factor, I wouldn’t even call him a friend today. “What if” has carried us to places which we didn’t know existed before our encounter. “What if” became the sole and single reason why we stuck together: that glimpse of the unknown was the only place where our friend-ship momentarily existed.

What if I had the right to choose? What if I could just be whatever I wanted to be? If I had a choice, though, I would probably be a cat. I would have probably chosen to be a cat. I would have chosen to become a creature that can be tender not upon request, but only by choice. A creature that can simply just be  – with confidence and grace, with no need to justify any decisions whatsoever. If I had the right to choose, I would have chosen that, but all I’m left with now is that “what if” factor.

“What if” is the escape route, a stair-way to my safe-house. And though you’d think there’s nothing safe in the “what if”, for nobody knows anything about it, I can assure you that there’s no greater sense of safety than the one you can experience whenever you truly give into “what if”.

That’s why it’s hard, I guess, it’s hard to let go of “what if” after you had a taste of it. It’s like a sort of a drug the effect of which you won’t be able to forget the moment you get intoxicated. The temptation will always remain. That’s the only truth I have uncovered so far. Temptation is always present under the disguise of “what if”.