if you will die tomorrow what's your last wish

for me i want sleep.. no convo no hug no sympathy no food just gentle sleep...

edit;- Whenever my heart grows heavy, I run—to sleep.
A place where peace isn’t borrowed, but real.
Or maybe, I run to her—
She who does not question, does not pity,
but simply understands.

It could be an hour, or hours…
but the peace that sleep holds is unexplainable.
I only wish that my last sleep feels just as gentle.