The Horrible, Sad, Overdramatically Told yet Lesson Teaching, Wisening Stories Of Death In My Not So Miserable Life #1

So hard to not cry, I wasn’t even there, he just died on me! I hated him for it. But I couldn’t stop crying.

On the way home, I changed my phone’s wallpaper to a photo of him, laying in the bed, extending his hands like his dead. He is now.

I’d edited the words “Shh, an angel sleeping” onto the photo in pale pink font, my sister looked over my shoulder, and saw I was passing my thumb over the screen, itching to touch him. She told me to stop. She acted like she wasn’t sad, but she’d already cried with me earlier.

I hated myself more that I hated the whole thing, back then. Because, while I was in another city, eating in Hardee’s, taking walks. He just got poisoned and died. Not entirely alone, but still, he was alone, he was dying.

And I was probably having fun. When he spent the whole night choking on the disinfectant. Why did he do that?

All of my family cried, my eldest sister cried all night, while we were asleep, my mom wept a little, and I went in a wailing spree in the morning, I knew he was going to die; we’d got the news late in the night before, but I prayed to God he wouldn’t. And when he did, I acted like it wasn’t that big of a deal for the first 2 minutes, but the following 20 minutes were an undisturbed series of maniac howling noises. And my other sister cried too. I even bet my brother did, he was with him when it happened. But we never talked about it.

I wanted to know where he was buried, but they wouldn’t tell me. I picked a nice place under the shade of some bushes and claimed this was where he was buried though. It was in front of my house so I could visit him daily. I don’t anymore.

When we reached home, I ran to his sister, and I just hugged her and kissed her. I ran my hands through her dark, short fur. and squeezed her to my chest, hearing her rapid heart beat. Not caring about her claws digging into my arms. I scratched behind her ears and she purred, and I promised I’d never let her go. I never did.

Now, I’ve got a new cat with the sister. And they’re very happy together. And I learned that what ever happens, is already written, and we just can’t OCD our loved ones into a padded room and hug them safe. I still fear the loss of my beloved Victoria. But I know I must live my life.


Please, give it to me my darlings.

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