Sleeping next to the cat with lukemia every night, watching him get sicker, knowing he'll be gone soon when he's only two years old. Feeling guilty when I stop petting him and he looks at me because he deserves to be pet indefinitely.
Crying about my dad for the first time in a long time because this holiday is probably never going to feel special or like it matters again, with the small family we had to start with, we won't ever be unbroken.
I'll never be a woman getting to feel like the little girl when I hug my daddy.
It's coming up on eight years soon.
I'm doing so much better but it's never too hard to remind myself how everything will always be fucked up.
Merry Christmas to me.
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