I loved them all. They were my family. I shared my most important moments with them. We laughed, cried, faced difficulties and ease together. They were the dearest things to my heart, the ones I loved the most. I was comfortable around them and could be my self. They loved me for who I was, the good and the terrible. They accepted me and gave me a home. I built a home for myself with them and cherished the time I spent with them. The time I spent with Her. She was the closest and dearest one to my heart. She was there for me before I even knew I needed help. She got me through hell and made my life livable. I loved her so much. She was my dearest, closest friend. Her kindness, resilience, beauty and strength were inspiring. I loved her more than anything. Why did they have to die? Why does my mind end everything in tragedy? After sharing 7 years together, she was torn away from me. When she died I couldn't sleep. I couldn't breath. I couldn't get out of bed. When she died I couldn't ignore how disgusting this world and the people in it are. When she died I couldn't block out the abuse and trauma I hid away for so long. When she died I was trapped in an endless loop. Replaying the scene in my mind for months. My heart was in deep pain. I wept and everything after was different. I wonder, who was I then that did not know grief? Who was I then that did not know love? 

My chest was heavy with pain. My eyes were filled with tears. My heart was emptied out. And I knew. Nothing could ever bring you back to me. I knew. I was alone from now on. I knew. No one could ever replace any of you. The pain weighed me down like a pile of bricks. I cried everyday for months. And no one knew. No one knew you were gone. No one knew who you were. No one knew what you meant to me. There was no funeral. No body. No relatives. No word of consolation. No love. No kindness. Only the expectations of fulfilling people's wishes regardless of circumstance. I loved you more than anything.

Why? Why did they leave me? If I go back she won't be there. If I go back my home will be taken by others. My mom will never be there again. I won't see her in the kitchen making rice crispy treats. I won't see her in the van picking me up from school. I won't see her in Mayhon pushing me on the swing. I won't see her in the masjid praying. I won't see her in my room before I fall asleep. I won't see her at Chuckie Cheese sitting at the booth. I won't see her watching Avatar with us from the kitchen. My mom. She was my mom. I will never be able to hug her again. I won't be able to apologize. There was no funeral here too. There was no body. There was no word of consolation. There was no acknowledgement of my pain. There was only grief. Hidden deep and masked for years. Grief that recieved no attention. No love. No healing. She was gone forever. And no one cared. No one cared. No. One. Cared. No one ever cares. Afterall, pain only counts in its physical form. Pain only counts when others can see it in black and white. Pain only counts when it fits a quota. Pain only counts when its justified by others.