Raffay Chaudhry

Six months ago today, my best friend died. 
On our last day together, we lay in bed listening to her favorite songs as I retold her stories we had laughed about 1000 times before. I was there by fate. While our other best friend was trapped in Austin because of an ice storm, I happened to be an hour away from her in California for work. Her health declined so quickly. I rushed out of work, holding back tears, as I called one of my friends from college, who graciously drove me down to be with her. My life has looked a lot different since that day. I sleep a lot more, I cry a lot more, and after building for over a decade straight, I’m not building anything. I’ve turned down every work opportunity, and embarrassingly for the first time in my adult life, I’m not prioritizing work. My brain feels different. The way I communicate feels more raw. I want to tell people I love them more. I’m way more afraid of missing memories with the people I care about. My content looks a lot different, too. After gaining 80,000 followers in a seemingly short amount of time, I haven’t posted on TikTok since she died. I’ve had trouble posting anything too motivational or work-related. I feel like a fraud. Pretending to care about making money, or "hustling", when right now... I really don’t. Grief and loss are horrible experiences. I’ve spent so much time reflecting on what I would change about my time with her if given the chance…
I wouldn’t have missed our last vacation together for a last-minute “important” meeting that I don’t even remember.
I wouldn’t have spent so much time working on my phone while we were together.
I wouldn’t have let the rude comment someone left me on social media ruin my mood, even if just for a second we were together. Life is painfully fragile and, for some, unexpectedly short. In our bubble, where we hear people talk nonstop about what is worth sacrificing for success, I can honestly say this: don’t sacrifice making memories with the people that would be there even if you lost it all. 🤍