It’s hard to wake up. Every morning I wake to the sound of a busy city. Cars, factories, people. Happy people. It’s hard to remember when I felt happy like that, and ever since March this year, life has been a puzzle. A puzzle, with a missing piece. A puzzle, that could never be solved.

Only a few weeks ago after arriving to Seattle after a largely successful stay in Florida I took my younger cousins to their parents’ houses and headed for downtown Seattle. A different city in its self. (Forbid us not to talk about the roads here). I returned, exhausted and worn from a weeks trip of never ending excitement. I turned a corner to be greeted by the memorable chime of my phone. A message or “text” from my father explaining the condition of my wonderful, good spirited, beautiful, persistent, courageous, independent, gracious mother. An innocent women who took it upon herself to fix everything she could in the world.

I couldn’t stop myself from being absolutely pissed at the doctors I had spent large savings on to help her. Not only was my heart in a repair after the tragedy with girlfriend and grandfather, pet and school, I now worried the one person I truly had left. . . would die.

~This doesn’t undermine my father, he is a hardworking, intelligent, and mostly interesting man who I cared a lot for, but unlike him I loved my mother more for what she did for me when I was in Elementary, Middle, and Highschool. She volunteered when no one else would, always prepared to assist in any matter she could help anyone improve on.~

I woke from a trance as the nearby honking noise of a car, made me return to reality. I pressed my foot on my pedal I took off going forward into a thriving western metropolis. I arrived half-shaken at my apartment complex (easily worth 2-3 million dollars with the current state of the market).

Despite utter and total loneliness I felt comforted in the almost 1500 sq footage of nothing-but-myself-ness??? I crashed on my couch and cried, like I have every night since. Here is why:

*

March 5th 12ish PM PST

Alex, someone I had spent the better part of the last few years with had decided to spoil me with a date at lunch, caught of guard by the sudden invitation I left my apartment early to join her. We conversed for over an hour, during our entire meal she kept a sad spirit that hung over her. It stood out like a sore thumb. She noticed my strange turn in attention and quickly broke the news. Absolutely stunned I was and the people around myself too. Some 10 people looked up from separate tables to stare. She looked at me, tears swellin in her eyes.

“It’s not your fault.” she spoke, and left without another word, even worse: I haven’t heard of my ex since.

Few weeks ~ months later. . .

Not only did I no longer care of time, self care became in-and-out habit. This seems like the usual breakup to some, soem who have experienced such things, but the tale gets worse. For those of you who have read my factbook Where I have been (Part 1 of 3) April ~ June•ish you already know this next part:

I started “dating-not-so-dating” a woman named Kayla (I try and suppress my emotions, that’s how I was able to transition so easily from Alex to Kayla). But our romantic endeavors ended shortly. Frustrated with myself I wandered the streets of Seattle looking for something to do. Coming up with nothing, I took my failure back to my apartment and went to sleep. . .

A few days later,

I was called by an unfamiliar number that morning. Apparently a caretaker of my grandfather. I had originally planned to visit him in July for his birthday, but this seemed urgent and it was clear he would pass. I rushed to Berlin to be present at his funeral. And I wish I had the will power to read his will. He gifted me several things of which I didn’t deserve but kept. I donated many items to a charity or two, trying to break my connection to the past.

I returned to Seattle wasted (no not drunk just spent) 😆. For what seemed to be the 268th time I plunked down on my couch and rested for only 6 hours until dawn rose to meet my faraway eyes. Not only was I single, without any grandparents anymore, or romance an option, I learned my dog had been in a wierd health condition that left him in the care of doctors to this day (September 4 3:44 PM PST).

School had ended over a month ago and it still felt like I was learning from all these negatives in my life. Angry and upset, I set out to talk to my parents. I couldn’t control my self. I felt responsible for a death, a divorce, a near dead pet. I felt guilt, selfish, ashamed of my actions and how it led me to cause so much harm on others. To know I was responsible only burnt another of thousands of holes in my heart. I couldn’t keep from crying the next few nights.

Shortly after (3 days) our meeting, my mom was rushed to the hospital after a “monthly” checkup diagnosed her with severe breast cancer. A week in the hospital convinced both my father and me she would be fine. After the doctors sent her home I began to consult with therapists. And when the smallest bit of light shines after this mess it quickly went away.

My mom was now near-guaranteed to die. And the word pass is nearly as bad as die. I wasn’t necessarily in shock, but the news hit me hard like a hurricane, like a broken heart. I felt shattered. Darkness surrounded my every thought, action, and idea. What could fix my condition? Nothing. Absolutely nothing could help someone who had suffered as much as I. They say time heals everything, but for me time only takes away.

That brings me to right now September 4th 3:53 PM PST, throughout this nightmare, this never ending journey of loss I have learned one thing:

Never get to close, to attached, because there will always be someone or something to take it -whatever you love- away.