Life was so beautiful.
And, it probably still is.
Just simply looking around, it is not hard to find the beauty of the world. The beauty of nature, human creations, and above all, humans themselves.
Nature alone offers endless beautiful sights. Vast fields of grass swaying gently in the wind, mountain ranges tall enough to pierce the clouds, oceans stretching for as far as the eyes can see. Even the sky itself feels alive, shifting from clear blue days to star filled nights, sometimes painted with glowing auroras that look so magical.
Human creations are no less breathtaking. Cities stretch outward like living organisms, buildings rising in countless shapes, sizes, and designs, each telling a story of the time they were built in. Bridges spanning impossible distances, towers reaching toward the sky, or even something we small as art, shaped piece by piece by human hands.
People as well are beautiful. Faces that carry emotion without a word spoken. Expressions that tell stories of joy, sorrow, exhaustion, and hope. Every person unique, walking their own path, shaping the world in both small and profound ways, both equally important
Even after closing one's eyes, the beauty of the world does not disappear. It lives on through sound, through touch, through smell. Through the subtle ways life makes itself known.
Nature can be heard and felt just as much as it can be seen. The rustle of leaves in the wind, the distant melody of birds, the crunch of gravel beneath one's feet, the warmth of sunlight on your skin on a cold day, the chill of morning air, the sensation of feeling rough bark while climbing a tree.
Human creations carry their own sensations. The hum of a city that never truly sleeps. Footsteps echoing through empty streets at night. The scent of food drifting through the air, familiar and comforting. The smooth surface of polished wood, the cold firmness of stone, the reassuring weight of everyday objects shaped for human hands.
And people are felt more deeply than anything else. A hug that lingers a little longer than expected. Hands clasped in silence. The steady rhythm of a heartbeat beneath one's palm. Proof of presence. Proof of connection. Proof that one is not alone in the world.
Life is beautiful not because it is seen, but because it is felt.
Life is beautiful in so many ways, and that beauty often gets taken for granted.
But unfortunately, not everyone gets to experience the beauty of the world, something so fundamental, so fragile: the ability to see the beauty of the world, to hear its sounds, to breathe in its scents, to taste its flavors, to feel its touch.
Most people take their senses for granted. And rightfully so, but these simple senses, overlooked and taken for granted, are what let life's beauty be truly experienced.
Unfortunately for Kaya, he doesn't get to experience life's beauty anymore. When he was only six years old, having already lost the ability to explore the world through taste and smell, he was diagnosed with a rare disease that only a few recorded people in history have known to have.
A disease that slowly takes away every sense...one by one.
First it was his taste and smell, and then his sight was the next sense that slowly started to diminish. At only seven years old, an age when children are supposed to start discovering the world, Kaya's was already fading.
And unfortunately, not many years later, his hearing gave way as well, leaving his world in complete silence and darkness.
Each loss made life a little smaller, a little duller. But somehow, he managed. He learned Braille. He studied. He lived.
No matter how much was taken away from Kaya, he never lost his appreciation for what life had to offer.
Most importantly, he could still feel the affection from his parents. The warmth of a hug from, the softness of a blanket when he went to bed after a long day, the steady comfort of holding his parents' hands and feeling their heartbeat, their constant presence in his life, their love.
As long as Kaya could feel his parent's love, that was enough.
Until one day, even that was taken away from him.
It happened while he was reading, tracing the braille letters with his fingers like he always did. And then... nothing.
The words disappeared beneath his fingers. The paper, the air, the weight of his own body, all of it vanished in an instant, gone.
Kaya couldn't feel the book he was holding mere moments ago. He couldn't feel the chair he was sitting on. He couldn't feel himself.
No warmth.
No cold.
No pain.
No comfort.
Nothing at all.
It was as if he had fallen asleep, but he wasn't sleeping, nor was this a dream, far from it...
There was nothing or no one to tell him what was happening, but at the same time he knew even if he didn't want to accept it.
He had just lost his last sense. His sense of touch.
At only 15 years old, Kaya had entered the last stage of his horrible disease, his eternal rest