last updated: 5/24/19


i think about death a lot. i think about mourning a lot. when i was super young my grandmother, Darlene, was diagnosed with a slew of conditions that ended up being terminal cancer and she passed away when i was 15. my grandma raised me. she was there for my first period, she made sure there was food in our bellys and new pencils in our backpacks on the first day of school. during the time of when she was the sickest there were dark things going on my family house and i dealt with it by acting rotten and cold. my dad took custody of me and i was living with him when my grandma passed. i did not deal with her death very well, i didn't go to her funeral, i didn't spend her last moments with her. before my grandma was ever sick i used to lay in bed and cry thinking about how i would feel if anyone in my family was to die. we were all so horrible to each other but we were all so close. the threat of child protective services splitting my brother, sister, my aunt, and uncle up at the time was an active fear. my aunt and uncle were still teenagers when i was in elementry school so i think of them as my older brother and sister during this time. sometimes i feel like i profised my grandmas death because of how much it haunted me as a child. not going to her funeral, not spending more time with her at the hospital is now what is haunting. it haunts me. i remember her life so well. i remember the time she would wake up every morning and how she did her makeup every single day and the mascara she would use, what she would look like when she smiled and laughed, and how she looked sitting at the kitchen table with her coffee. i don't talk about her that often to my family. so this is the first time letting it go. at the time of her passing, our family was in shambles, i wasn't living with my grandma when she passed. i had cut my grandpa completely out of my life. because of the hostility and anomosity i was faced with from my grandpa at age 15, i was met with a lot of "you didn't love her" and "you gave her cancer", "youre the reason why shes dead". and i never belived that. i have always been the black sheep of my family, always more witty, always enjoyed my solitude, always rejected abuse and always accepted the truth of who i am. i think because of the emotional abuse i was faced with from my grandpa is why i was emotionally stunted for so long and still am. i'm writing this a month before i turn 25 and the understanding and clear headedness i have about my life is not even what it was at 23. the thing that sansa says on Game Of Thrones is true: "i'm not a quick learner, but i learn". the point of telling this story is to say, if my grandpa is reading this and i am no longer alive, the only things i have to say to you is: fuck you. i've had to undo so much abuse, i repeated the abuse you taught me in order to surive until i actually hurt people. so fuck you for that. and i forgive you. if you're dead before i die, i'll make sure to be at your funeral, with a grevience in hand.

i want everyone to mourn me in whatever way works for them. i want to remembered and memorialized in whatever ways helps the mourning process. just play my funeral playlist, and write letters to me.

currently, i'm working on my funeral playlist. once its finished i'll post it here!