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This past year has been something I've never believed I'd have to endure.

I've lost a part of me, and people expect it to still be there. I truly believed I was the person that could see the worst of the world, but continue to look for the beautiful bright side in it.

I lost a light in my life that I never wanted, but once it was blacked out something in me felt so cold and afraid.

Even on the warmest days, I feel like I'm in the snow freezing on my own. It's such a disheartening feeling, to think that nothing will ever be the same and either way nothing could have. Even if I had held you, loved you, believed all the cheesy things that people say, my life would have been undeniably different.

I lost three people I loved in this tragedy, or this tragedy adjacent, or whatever the ******** it is.

I felt so much love for this man at one point. I wanted to have a future with him, a family, so many plans were on the books and just like a fire, it only took one flick of the wrist, and a drop of the match and it was gone.

Please don't think I condone the bullshit he made me endure, telling me that because I could not quench his sexual thirst, he needed his own time and space. I don't find that heroic or manly or understandable. He was supposed to hold my hand through the darkest hour, even if that hour has lasted nearly seven months now. I do not regret losing him in this process as it helped me see the man that I could've given an eternity to. I do, however, feel the pain and loss and sadness nevertheless. I am far too wise to ever think that his actions were acceptable. As badly as I want to let something like that slide, I can't. I respect myself far too much.

My second loss was the baby that people cringe at when I talk about. I find that so disheartening, that people are so on edge about talking about something they never loved or felt or even had a chance to process or care about. None of them could possibly feel the magnitude of the pain and heartache this loss has caused me. None of these people that are supposed to love me unconditionally could ever fathom this pain. Yet they hush me when I bring it up, as if its a terrible thing to make a comment, when in reality the ability to talk about it is supposed to be a sign of comfort in your loss. These people who cringe, shy away from it, etc show me how little I must mean to them. Its so disheartening to see how little my personal struggles have meant to these people that I've given a shoulder to over the years. What can I expect though, in all actuality?

My final loss was myself. I lost the innocence that I never intended to hold onto so tightly, yet somehow managed to in the disgusting world we live in. Even in my teenage years, even when I tried to act like I knew more than I did, or maybe I knew because I researched rather than lived it, my innocence was always in tact. I have easily become a stranger staring at myself in the mirror. I lay awake at night and genuinely contemplate ending my life because I don't know what to do with myself anymore, and how could I? Nobody gives a flying ******** what happens to you after you're out of high school. Nobody gives a flying ******** once you've established your "life" and you're all busy doing your own things.

I hate that people tell me I'm not the same happy person I used to be. I hate that the somber feeling seems to follow me everywhere I go. I hate that I don't feel good enough for anyone or anything. I hate that even though I've come so far in being outgoing, I still feel so afraid to speak to someone new. I hate that I'm afraid to talk to my best friend. I hate feeling like I've become estranged from my entire life. I hate that I'm a stranger in a world I've always known and loved. I hate who I'm becoming and I hate that I don't know what to do to change it as badly as I need to. I hate this feeling that sits in my stomach and I hate this lump in my throat and I hate that I know nobody in my life gives a ******** about me because I'm just another person in their life. I hate that I'm expendable in every aspect of my world. I hate that I can't sleep at night and I hate that I dream of crashing my car into a brick wall when I get in my car.

I've had more sexual partners in this one year than I thought I would have in a lifetime. At one point, when I was young, I imagined sleeping with many people and it seemed exciting and delightful. Sadly, its mostly emptying. Draining. Painful. You don't realize how much of yourself you're lending to someone as you lay on your stomach and let them get whatever they need out of you. You don't realize how much of yourself you're letting go of. I tell people who ask that my number is six. Luis. Randy. Emmett. John. Kyle. Brogan.

I don't count the monster from the night where I should have been a good girl and not tried to see what the world had to offer. I try to forget his name. Sometimes I do. Sometimes it comes swirling back to me. I remember his boyish charm and how friendly he seemed. I remember he paid for my drink. I remember he felt like I owed him something. Nicholas.

I don't count the guy who picked me up from the airport because I didn't want to inconvenience my parents. We shared a night. Just one. So he can't really count, right? But, Eric does.

I don't count the guy who I tutored in math for a week. I remember he whispered, "I really like you" and I didn't like that. I remember I decided I would sleep with him so he would never hit me up again. And he didn't. And I was happy about that. Greg.

I was supposed to move to California. I was supposed to finally be in the same city as my best friend. My employer literally screwed me over as a means of saying "you're far too valuable to let go of." Oh. Okay.

And yet I can't feel as though she resents me for this. And why wouldn't she? It always feels as if our time is so close, yet so far. And she's already building a life out there. How do I know I wouldn't be a nuisance?

I remember sitting at dinner with John B. and John M. I remember them telling me to give her as much space as she needed in the city because I wouldn't be her top priority. And I knew they were right because we're not the kids who sit on Gaia anymore, but I knew they were wrong because the love we feel isn't love that anyone else could ever feel.

When I see her, sometimes I feel like a child with a crush. I feel bashful and afraid and believe I say all the wrong things. I find comfort in her taking lead as I always have. I don't have romantic feelings, but there's a hold she has over me that I've never been able to explain. When I actually get pictures of my future when I think, she's the only consistency I see.

Its either she's there, or blackness. That's essentially the only way to sum it up.

She definitely has her own life blossoming in front of her. I'm proud of her accomplishments. There is no doubt in my mind that she will have the most fulfilling life, whether I witness it or not. I do hope I witness it, but I realize the only way I'll be able to is if I start taking care of myself and that proves to be harder than I expected.

I'm back in school. Its hands down the biggest accomplishment I've made this year. I plan on continuing with International Relations.

I want to see the world. There has to be somewhere out there that feels like home, but right now, I am not home.

My sister and I are slowly becoming friends. I confide in her more than anyone else these days, and though she has a big mouth, she loves me unconditionally and that's something I never valued the importance of until the recent events of this year.

John Medina and I have hardly spoken in almost two months. He's caught up in his relationship, and I'm caught up in my spiraling life of uncertainty.

Now its time to rest.

"Guilt. she is the governess that guides me back to grief."