I’d say I would go to September 13, 2012.

The day before my aunt died.

The day before the world ended. Well, for me anyways.

I’d appear at my old street. Go to the church nearby, and just walk for a bit and daydream. By one, I’d knock on the door.

I’d say hello.

If I didn’t look familiar to them, that’d be nice. If they recognized me, that’d be nice too.

I’d tell them I came back because I wanted to talk.

And I’d talk. With everyone.

My mom.

My dad.

My grandmother.

My aunt.

I’d tell them about how I’m sorry I wasn’t that good of a son.

That I screwed up then, and even after the next day.

I’d tell them a few things, but above all, I’d tell all of them, especially my aunt, that I love them. So, so much. That not for a second, that a day goes by when I think about how much of a better son I could have been.

I’d walk out with a tear in my eye, as I say goodbye to them. And I’d look at her, one last time, knowing that the next day, when 10 year old me walks out that door and says “Love you”, that it would be the last time I’d ever get to say it to her, and I’d never even know until it was too late.

Knowing, that even after almost 6 years, it still screws with me today. Emotionally stunting me, and that this is what put the nail in the coffin. The moment that sent me in a downward sprial, and boy, was I going to crash hard.