Click to Subscribe - By L. M. Augustine Page 0,51

half a year without Mom, and I still have Cat, so why does it matter anymore? I should be over it. I shouldn’t be visiting Mom’s grave every week hoping she’ll return, I shouldn’t be acting as if Dad is just a little tired and having 365 consecutive bad days, I shouldn’t worry about whether I love my best friend or not. We’re still friends. We fought, but she’s still here. I don’t need love to be happy. I don’t need to worry.

Sometimes, like now, I wonder why Dad stopped caring. It feels like it’s been a millennium since he was happy, but really it’s only been a year. I guess I’ll never know why he gave up, though. It’s just one of those things that I don’t really need an answer to. Maybe he got depressed. Maybe he let it get to him. Maybe work was too stressful. Maybe he just decided to call it quits.

I don’t know.

And I’m not sure I care, either.

I sigh, click over to my vlog page, and refresh it aimlessly a few times, but I don’t know what to think, what to do. Then I see my camera positioned in front of me. My camera. The only way I have ever been able to get my thoughts out before. It worked for Mom, kind of, so maybe it’ll work now. For Cat. For Dad. I roll my eyes at how stupid it sounds, but it’s not like I have anything better to do. So I reach out and turn on then camera, take a breath, and start talking.

“Sometimes,” I say into the lens, “loving people sucks. It’s scary, terrifying really, but you have to do it. You have to take that deep breath and make the plunge, for all of its hurt and emptiness and confusion to come, because loving someone is worth it. I loved my mom,” I say, but I can’t look at the camera any longer. Instead, I focus my gaze on my light-blue-painted wall in front of me. I keep blinking and blinking, hoping the tears won’t come again. “She’s gone now,” I continue, “and now my dad is gone to me, too. It… hurts… to lose someone you love. When Mom died, I…” I close my eyes. Talk about making a fool of myself. “I didn’t know what to do,” I say, my voice hushed. “I felt empty, lost, hurt, and more than that, I felt confused. How could someone I love die on me like that? How could it hurt so much? And why couldn’t I have had a warning? I mean, I never even got to say goodbye…” Another pained breath. The tears keep threatening to come, but I fight them. I’m not going to cry. I’m strong. I’m strong. “And then I couldn’t stop wondering why the hell I bothered to love her in the first place, if all it did was leave me with tears and pain and a deep sense of confusion.”

I grit my teeth.

“That was my low point. How could I forget all of the happiness she brought me when she was alive, just like that? How could it suddenly be not worth it? How could a moment of pain change how I feel about my own mother? I didn’t know, and that was and still is the problem: I don’t know. But,” I say, “I wouldn’t trade loving her for anything else. Sure, the memories don’t turn into happiness as quickly as they say. Sure, you don’t just ‘get better’ one morning. Sure, it feels like you’re trapped and will never escape. But that doesn’t matter. It feels like that because you’ve loved someone, and that’s an amazing thing. That’s something important. And yeah, it hurts. It fucking burns. “But,” I say, “it hurts because it matters.”

I pause, my temples pounding, my head throbbing so hard I swear it’s about to explode. “There’s this girl who I’ve known for the longest time who, the other month, told me she loves me. And now? Now I’m afraid of her. Afraid of wanting her. Afraid of loving her. But why? For what? Because I’ll be broken again? Once again, I don’t know. I don’t know what’s going on with me. I just know… that I don’t want to put myself out there again. That I don’t want to lose anyone else.” I tighten my jaw. “But I’m done hiding. I’m done being afraid. So I’m taking the leap. Eventually, it will hurt. Eventually, I