I Tried Living Like It Was My Last 7 Days on Earth—Here’s What Changed Forever

It started on a quiet Monday morning. I was sipping my usual black coffee, scrolling through social media, when I stumbled across a video titled “What Would You Do If You Had Only 7 Days to Live?” I didn’t click it. I didn’t need to. The question clung to me like static.

What would I do?

I had no major health issues, no drama going on. Life was… normal. Predictable. But something about the idea unsettled me in the best way. So, I grabbed a notebook and wrote across the top in bold letters:

“My Last 7 Days.”

I made a pact with myself. I’d live this week like I was dying at the end of it. No more excuses. No more postponing joy. No more "someday."

Day 1: Apologies & Closure

I started with the hardest part—people. I wrote down three names I had avoided for years: my high school best friend I ghosted after an argument, my cousin I stopped talking to over a family dispute, and my ex, who I never really apologized to after we drifted apart.

My hands trembled as I typed out each message. I didn’t overthink it. I simply said what I wished I’d said all along: “I’m sorry. You mattered more to me than I showed. I hope you’re well.”

Two replied that same day. One even called. There were tears. But mostly, there was peace. The kind that settles in your chest like a long, overdue sigh.

Day 2: Love Out Loud

On Tuesday, I told everyone I loved that I loved them. Not just a “love ya” at the end of a call. I mean the real, look-them-in-the-eyes kind.

I took my parents out for breakfast and told them they did better than they thought. I hugged my little sister for longer than usual and told her I believed in her. I left handwritten notes for my coworkers, thanking them for specific things they’d done that made a difference.

And to my best friend, I said, “You’re my chosen family. I’d live this life again just to have met you.”

Their faces when I said those words? I’ll never forget them.

Day 3: Say Yes

Wednesday, I said yes to everything that felt even remotely exciting. My neighbor invited me to an open mic night. I went. I read one of my old poems. My voice shook, but when the small crowd clapped, I felt like I’d just flown.

A friend asked if I wanted to join her at sunrise yoga. I hate mornings—but I said yes. We laughed when we both nearly fell asleep mid-pose, then sat quietly and watched the sky turn gold.

I realized how many beautiful moments I’d missed just by saying “maybe next time.”

Day 4: Face the Fear

Thursday was for fear. I’ve always had a fear of heights, so I booked a last-minute indoor rock climbing session. I stared up at the wall, heart racing, but I climbed anyway. I didn’t make it to the top, but I made it higher than I ever thought I would.

Then I sat down and opened my laptop. I’d always wanted to write a story and submit it somewhere. I’d told myself I wasn’t good enough. But not today.

I finished a short piece and sent it to a magazine I admired. I hit “send” with my eyes closed.

And then I smiled.

Day 5: Quiet & Reflection

Friday was slower. I turned off my phone. I sat in the park with nothing but a journal and watched children chase each other while their parents drank lukewarm coffee. I listened to the wind in the trees, really listened. I wrote down everything I was grateful for, and the list spilled onto two pages.

I remembered moments I hadn’t thought about in years—my grandmother braiding my hair, my dog resting his head on my lap during storms, the smell of my childhood blanket.

I realized the best parts of my life were the smallest.

Day 6: The Wild Dream

Saturday was for the wild dream—the thing I always said I’d do “someday.”

For me, that dream was dancing in public. Not professionally, not perfectly—just wildly, freely. I’ve always loved to dance, but only alone in my room.

So I grabbed a portable speaker, called my friend, and we went to the town square. We played music and danced. People watched, laughed, even joined in. I forgot to feel embarrassed.

For the first time in years, I felt alive in my own skin.

Day 7: Goodbye & Beginning

Sunday came heavy, like a farewell. I treated it as if it were my final day. I wrote letters to the people I loved most, telling them what they meant to me. I wrote one to myself, too—thanking me for finally choosing to live.

I sat by the water that evening, watching the sunset, and whispered, “Thank you for this life.”

But the truth was, I wasn’t dying.

And that changed everything.

What Changed Forever

I didn’t die after 7 days—but something inside me did. The version of me who waited, postponed joy, withheld love, feared failure… that version died.

In her place stood someone braver, kinder, lighter.

I didn’t keep up every habit I started that week. Life returned to its usual rhythm. But the heartbeat of those 7 days stayed with me. I started living more intentionally. I started choosing people and moments over perfection and plans.

And I started measuring life not by how long I had, but by how deeply I lived it.

If you’re reading this and wondering what you’d do with your last 7 days—try it.

It might just change everything.