(2)
Over the course of this year and the past one, I've lost all my friendships, followed by my best friend and the only person who kept me sane, lost the little relief I found in writing, tried every coping mechanism, healthy and unhealthy, none helped. My dad, who I hate, but is still my dad, is sick and probably dying. Not sure, I haven't spoken to him in two years. I sabotaged what could've been my first decent relationship, because I was avoiding anything that could even bring me close to feeling grief again. I went to therapy, for two weeks. Which did more damage than good because of the discontinuation. I quit all forms of social media, tried to satisfy myself with what I already have. Spoiler alert, didn't work, I was still miserable.
Then my cat, Mylo, the one I showed in my books before, the one I'm holding in my profile picture, died. The only source of comfort, belonging, and warmth in my life. The cat I raised from the day he was a month old. My only friend, my buddy.
He was only two years old, he was healthy. Then overnight he developed acute respiratory failure. His lungs gave out slowly and painfully over the course of a few hours, until his airway completely closed and he choked to death on his own vomit. I watched, I was with him all day. I was with him in the car on the way to the vet when he seized, and cried and threw up the contents of his empty stomach because his sickness left him unable to eat anything for a week, I watched as he fought to take a breath of air, and screamed when his attempts failed, then finally, his chest stop moving. The smell of his body dying still stinks my moms car. We made it to the vet barely two minutes later. He was already dead. The last week of his life was spent starving, the last month of his life was spent scared because we had been staying at a relative's house in another country and he hated strangers, the last hours of his life were spent in agonizing pain until his last breath.
