Write a letter to your 100-year-old self.
Dear Mohamed,
If you’re reading this, you made it. A century. That alone is something. But was it worth it? Did you live, really live, or did you just survive?
By now, the world must be unrecognisable. Faster, colder, more artificial. Or did it finally crumble under its own greed? Did the West fall? Did the system collapse? Tell me—did people ever wake up, or did they go deeper into their sleep?
I wonder if you still care about the things that matter to me now. Did football still excite you long after the players you knew were gone? Or did it become another soulless product, another thing they took and ruined? Did technology finally push too far, reaching a point where even you—the one who once loved it—sighed and wished the world would slow down?
Are you still writing? Or did the words dry up, lost in the noise of time? If you stopped, was it because you had nothing left to say, or because no one was listening anymore? I can’t imagine a version of us without words, without stories, without questioning everything.
And faith—did it only grow stronger, or did life test you in ways I can’t yet imagine? Did you ever waver? Or did you hold on, through every trial, every loss, every moment where it felt like the world was slipping from your grasp? I hope you never stopped praying. I hope, even with a body weaker than mine, your sujood remained firm.
Is your family still around you? Do they remember you for who you really were, or just as an old man they once knew? Did you teach them enough, love them enough, guide them enough? Or are you sitting alone, wondering where the years went, realising too late that time is the cruellest trick of all?
But let’s be honest—you know what I’m really asking. Are you ready?
Because if you’re reading this at 100, then the journey is nearly done. The final chapter is being written, whether you like it or not.
So tell me, old man—are you afraid? Or did you finally, after all these years, learn to let go?
Did you finally make peace with the fact that everything—every triumph, every heartbreak, every lesson, every mistake—was only ever leading you back to Him?
I pray you did.
With faith,
Your Younger Self
The Narratives - Mohamed Miah 
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