WARNING: THIS IS HEAVY EMOTION SPILLING. THIS IS ME WRITING AT 10:30 AT NIGHT WHILE STRESSED, TIRED AND FRACKING SAD OUTTA MY MIND. IF THIS COMES OFF WEIRD, I APOLOGIZE BUT IN ORDER TO KNOW SOMETHING ABOUT ME AND WHY I ACT THE WAY I DO SOMETIMES, I SUGGEST YOU READ AT LEAST PART OF IT. I'LL SOUND ALL DRAMATIC BUT THIS HAS BEEN PENT UP EMOTIONS FOR A YEAR NOW AND I NEED A WAY TO GET IT OUT.

Dear diary,

How do I even begin to explain everything that's running through my mind as of right now?

One year ago none of what's happening now would've seemed like it would happen...

So much has happened.

It's hard to explain. I feel like I've lead 2 lives here and I'm not even in my twenties yet.

I guess I'll start with a little over a year ago, when everything slanted to a steep downhill fall.

I remember everything about that month, March 2011. I was so proud of myself and I felt like everything was getting better. I was beginning to lose weight without even trying, my tumbling in cheerleading was improving, I found something that made me really happy~ K-pop and found a new passion because of it. Well, you know how I found it, it was on accident. On this thing called on-demand on tv. For aout 6 months I had known about this and it made me so happy and I loved it so much, everything seemed perfect in my life at this point. 

I was looking better, our relationship was a little better, I found something that was perfect for me, but everything went downhill. It all collapsed. I wish it hadn't... I miss everything the way it was.

It's somewhat ironic, Haru Haru was on-demand just 2 months prior to us finding out. I even remember how the doctor's visit went. We had just come back from the county library and I had written down the lyrics to Big Bang's "Always" for me to learn when I got home but we had to stop at the doctor's on the way back because your ear hurt and the anti-biotics they gave you weren't working.

It had only been a week, if even so. You went back and you had lost 7 pounds. It took you a while to come out and I was tired and ready to go home so I could begin learning the lyrics. But when you came out and sat down in the chair, you began to cry and it made me wonder what had occured back in the office. They told you the weight loss could be a sign of cancer.

At the utterance of that dreaded "c" word, my stomach dropped. I remained silent, I didn't know how to handle this being thrown at me. Instead, I kept quiet and resumed reading over the lyrics, a thousand thoughts running through my head.

At first I thought, "No, you don't have cancer. That's impossible. That won't happen to you. There's no way."

On second thought, "W-What if you really do have cancer. What's going to happen?"

A moth later, you were scheduled to have an exploratory surgery done to check if it really was cancer like they thought it was. Your mouth was bleeding so easily when you brushed your teeth, you were losing weight rapidly, your tongue constantly hurt, your ear ached like no tomorrow, it was hell for you. And when they said "tongue cancer", it turned my life to hell too.

In May you had to have most of your teeth pulled out, only leaving the top 6. Apparently radiation loosens any teeth that aren't in perfect shape... So we wait for those to heal and for you to get better and your condition has slowly worsened by this time.

In July you began chemo therapy and radiation; chemo every Tuesday if I remember and radiation every school day. At this time I had lost about 15-20  pounds now and I was so proud of myself. Part of this whole problem fueled my weight loss as I saw you couldn't eat at all without it hurting too much so I refrained from eating as much or in front of you since it would basically be me taunting you.

In August you stopped chemo and radiation, your neck was peeling and you always had to put lotion on. But it didn't help in allowing you to eat.

You didn't eat for almost 2 months. 

2 months.

And what you did eat, you said tasted like rotten puke and metal.

You couldn't eat anything anymore and it just made me even more worried about everything.

You started puking when taking in anything and this only made everything worse. It made you completely malnourished and unhealthy and there was nothing I could do about it but sit back and watch this horrible display of human life wasting away happen before my eyes.

Then we finally took a step in the right direction.

We got you a feeding tube put in in your stomach.

It was supposed to be a 2 day hospital, if even that.

It turned into 5.

The doctors said they were surprised your heart didn't stop beating from lack of magnesium and potassium.

So they gave you a drip of that and a blood transfusion. Then they gave you the operation. And you still have to stay longer after that.

Then you're finally released and we can go home. I notice a change as your spit's become increasingly disgusting smelling...

It's now September and things are looking a lot better. Your speech is not as slurred to where I can understand you half the time and you're getting nutrients in your body like you need to to the point where you can actually walk now, but you still have to hold on to me. My birthday was nearing and I got the cd I had been longing for since that January; G-Dragon's Heartbreaker cd. I was so pleased when I got it and I showed it to you and you even liked it, praising the setup of the cd and how the case looked.

Then came October, when it crashed.

It was the day after my birthday, I remember this distinctly (because oh what beautiful timing). Things had been getting worse and worse and you were under the impression that the tumor was growing back because you said you felt it. The doctors considered a tracheotomy and removing your tongue but you refused.

Then it happened. Seven something at night and you rang the bell you used for when you needed help. I trudged into the living room and almost passed out. There was blood everywhere. On the floor, on your shirt, on the paper towels you were holding, on the grocery bag trash bag on the floor that you were holding, on the couch, just everywhere. It was about a half inch deep in the pink hospital bucket you had. I almost passed out because of my queasy stomach and I had to call the doctor because we honestly thought your tongue exploded.

Turns out there was a lesion on it and it started to bleed. The thing falling out of your mouth that were presumed to be your tongue was a blood clot. Our neighbors were thankfully awake and they took us to the ER where we were put in a room afterwards. Fast forward about 30 minutes and I walk in and the clot falls off your tongue. Obviously you feel better but you have to get another blood transfusion.

The doctors have been urging you to get hospice for a bit now but your hard-headedness refuses to allow them, plus because of your hoarding problem you didn't want them in your house.

So we go without.

Then 2 weeks later, it happens again. Only at about 2 in the morning. I have to call 911 and we go by ambulance to the hospital. You get another transfusion. I beg and plead and beg and plead and my relatives help me with it too and we're finally able to convince you to get home hospice like we told you you needed a bit ago.

We started that about a few days before Halloween.

It's getting worse each day.

It's November 14^th, 2011. Monday. I had nothing going on that day but that was a day you get your shower. You were feeling especially bad that day. And it struck me that what I dreaded the most might happen soon but I pushed it to the back of my mind, not wanting to focus on that as I'm generally optimistic. After all, the doctors told me you had anywhere from a little less than a year to a few weeks from the time he told me in late October.

It never really hit me when I spoke about your timeline of death. It's just something I could say to people. When I brought up "she's not going to make it" to those who asked how you were, the words never sunk in. They were never comprehended by me. I never once thought about it, being the naive person I was then.

November 15^th, 2011. Tuesday. I had cheerleading practice that day and when I woke up, I noticed you were acting a bit strange that day. You were making these weird sounds that I weren't sure what they meant. I blame myself and I always will for that could've been the thing to save your life, was me calling 911 when I woke up and noticed your new condition.

But no, I chose to carry on with regular life, about as regular as it could get then. Come 6:30 pm or so (I can't remember when my practice was, I forgot) I left for cheerleading with your friend driving me to and from practice and getting me dinner since the kitchen was a mess, you couldn't cook and I was just pure lazy.

I came home around 9ish and you were still acting the same so I trotted off to my room and listened to music like I normally did, still not bothering to pay attention.

Thanks to my erratic sleep pattern, I sometimes found myself up until 4 in the morning. And this was one of those nights. It was about 3 am when I went out of my room and went to the fridge to refill my water bottle from the water dispenser. I glanced over at you like I always did to check on you and see how you were doing. You had stopped making the noise, I had noticed and you looked rather still. I finished refilling my water bottle, put it in my room and came back out and hovered over you, staring intently at your chest. It looked as though it wasn't moving. So I nudged you, a scare was beginning to fill within my stomach as that feeling of dread became known.

I got no response. I nudged you again. Nothing. So I called "mom". Nothing. Again. "Mom~!". Nothing. I continued screaming mom so loud I thought the windows would break until I noticed your eyes were rolled back in your head and the giant brick wall that had been precariously hanging by a thread over my head broke and crashed down on me like the weight of a car. It hit me. It finally hit me.

Oh my god it happened.

I ran to turn off your tv and do the same for mine. I even remember what I had playing at the time.

Teen Top "Don't Spray Perfume".

I picked up the house phone and dialed 911, calmly telling the operator that you have cancer and you're unresponsive. Within 5 minutes, if even that, around 6 paramedics flooded the house.

They dragged you off the couch and onto the floor, hooking something up to your chest. They gave me false hope by saying they say your chest move... It made me assume that you had just fainted in your sleep simply and this would just end up as another hosital trip.

A police officer called me outside while the men were working on you and he asked me several general questions. I thought he was asking them because he genuinely needed to know the answers to them. I know now that it was just to get me out of the house when it happened.

A paramedic came out and whizzed by me, ever so slightly touching my shoulder and saying "I'm so sorry for you loss." And rushing back out to the ambulance.

I felt my eyes blur. The man in front of me almost disappeared. My knee felts weak and my stomach felt sick. I wanted to scream "no" but I refrained as it was 4 o'clock in the morning and I was outside.

They called people and they covered you up and I had to wake up your friend at 4 am to come and get me. I had walk over your covered body to get things I needed and then I was brought to her house where I stayed until my relatives picked me up and brought me up north one state to where I live now to begin a completely new life.

One year ago I was homeschooled, anti-social, awkward, juvenile, I had no friends, I was not smart (I'm still not), I lived in a complete mess, no one really cared to check in on me, I didn't have the perfect family.

Now here I am. One year later, in school making straight A's, having a social life, having friends, actually being wanted by people, having a great family who supports me, someone who'll always be there for me.

It's so different.

All at once I want everything the way it used to be and everything the way it is now.

I guess you could say I love my life the way it is now.

But through all our never-ending fights and name calling, our competition trips, our battle with that, me growing up and acting like a brat, a not so ideal living situation, I still miss that life and wouldn't trade how I grew up for anything else.

I guess you could say that was an overly dramatic rant about how much a sob story my life is but i'm not trying to say that and I apologize for this being ridiculously long. *bows* I just had to get that off my chest because today is exactly the one year anniversary of my mother's death and I'm literally crying because of revisiting the memories that went on in those 8 months you were infected with cancer. I love you so much mommy and I'll always regret never getting to say " I love you." to you before you left this world. <3