When my dad died, something in me snapped. The world became cold and gray and I was angry for not being able to see the color in anything. I grew cold. I grew unaware.

I transformed back into the 11 year old girl who was throwing temper tantrums because I wasn’t being seen. I wasn’t being heard.

It’s crazy how death brings you back full circle to a moment in time like that. A moment it shouldn’t have.

I became too cold. I ignored everyone else. I ignored my own thoughts, my own words, my own actions, my own morals. I just wanted to disappear from the world. Disappear to somewhere my dad was.

I neglected my relationship. I became so cold and distant and didn’t explain why because honestly, I had no fucking idea, but I should’ve asked for help instead of playing the role of the big sister who had her shit together and wanted to be the glue for everyone else. Instead of running in every other direction instead of the one thing I wanted the most.

It has destroyed so much for me because I just let it happen. I rode the fuck out of that wave and didn’t stop when I was drowning. I let it take me out. I let it engulf every breathe of air I needed to make it okay and I neglected that.

Death has a weird way of sneaking it’s way into every part of your life. Like a dark shadow that latches itself onto you and sucks out every color you’ve seen, every good moment you knew you had and it happens so quick that everything falls apart before you can even realize what you did to destroy everything.

My house is burning and all I want is to let the flames take over. A silent cry for help.

A silent cry.