I've thought about this a lot, where I am from where I was. It doesn't seem to be very far. No, not far at all. Sometimes I take my steps back. And sometimes I pull through with one big leap forward. But most of the time I'm falling. I'm falling away from everything that has been there to help me. Everything that needs me. And it used to not bother me one bit. Now, now I can finally see where I am on the big line of up's and down's. I can finally see myself and where I am. Clearly. This past year has been the hardest. The worst has been all I've lost. Death, when you lose someone, you learn so much about yourself. Some one close to you can teach you so much. When she died, I didn't cry. It wasn't until her funeral, in front of everyone that I really broke down. I sat in the second row. Behind my Mother and Grandfather. And I watched as my uncles carried in her casket. I watched as they carried in someone that had lost everything in so little time. And I sat there. And I watched. And I cried because I knew it was real now. I knew she was gone. Everything I knew. Everything about life, it all seemed to fade, because when something so big is taken from you, something so great, you're left empty handed, you're left with so many questions. So the people spoke. They spoke in languages I couldn't understand over the loud weeping of my cousins, siblings, and I. They said all the good things about her, everything typically announced during moments like these. And then it was my turn to speak. I prepared a speech, I stood behind the pedestal, able to see over so easily in my high heels, and the tears came harder. They came like a tidal wave. They came and they didn't stop. And I spoke through them. Words that I hadn't even thought until that moment, words that weren't on the paper. I told them all about the way I saw her. The way she would blow a kiss to me after I cursed her out. The way she brought my friends and I snacks after I called her embarrassing. The way she leapt through hoops to bring my lunch money to school after I told her I hated her. All of those ways. That's what made her. Her undying love for me, even when I was selfish and rude. That's what made her. Her smile. That's what made her. Life made her, and she made life. And I told these people about her, half of them strangers. I remember my legs were shaking, my whole body was shaking. That's the first time I really lost something. And it confuses you, death. It really does. It distorts your views. It can break you. Her body, the day before...her body was cold to the touch. My Mom put her arm around me..."It's okay, it's just like she's sleeping." But it wasn't, because she was dead. And cold. And stony. And she wasn't the same. And nothing would ever be the same. And I know it's hard. And I know it seems like it will never get better. But at some point, one day when you're with your friends, you look at how happy they are and you decide you really want something like that again. So that's the day I decided I needed it. I needed to be happy. And I tried so hard, and it didn't work. It never worked. It wasn't until I let go of the pain and kept onto the memory that it happened. And it happened so fast. And it felt so great. Happiness feels so great. It overwhelms you, like when you walk into a big store, a place with so many choices. It hits you in a way that might scare you if you've never felt it before, I mean, never really felt it. And today I can feel it. It runs through my veins and on a good day I can remember her laugh. And that makes it better. It doesn't make me sad anymore, to remember her. Because her memory is a blessing