Dramatic times call for dramatic journal titles, and if period in my life could be called dramatic ... this is it. I'm not going to say my life can't get worse. Realistically, it can. Honestly, I hope it doesn't. This has been enough on my plate. This whole year is striving to break me and it is doing it's job as efficiently as a machine calculates simple math.

Let's start from the top, shall we? Hmm... How did this glorious year begin? With a New Years I did not celebrate very well (I slept through it while others around me immersed themselves in activities I did not enjoy as much), not too long afterward I broke down during work and proceeded to get fired/quit (as explained in previous journals, I had a choice in the matter but decided I did not want to stick around.) I was granted an epiphany of sorts about how important school is, and tore a path open for myself.

Things were good from then on, that is, until I found out spontaneously that my parents were divorcing, the house I'd lived in most of my life was being sold, and I was going to live with my mother. The divorce was upsetting enough, but never getting to see that house again with all it's memories both good and bad---the culmination of my childhood---that caused me some grievance. I had to say goodbye to the room that had accompanied me through all the cornerstones of my life--first romanticism, adolescence, happiness and tears---the times that later on in life we really cherish. The hallways I'd run and played through. The living quarters where, when my parents still loved eachother, we would spend time together as a family and I'd play with my toys. The beautiful forests where I'd played with my childhood friends and made forts. I had to leave all of it behind.

Where I'd moved wasn't so bad, but this whole issue was only the icing on the shitcake. Where it would of been a much bigger deal if I was younger, I could cope with this fine. I didn't like it, I was upset for a while, but it was quite manageable.

The next in line for things I'd say that were horrible for me this year, would be how sick I got on my birthday. Now, I had a rather big and splendid part with all of my friends (and some acquaintances.) which any person would be glad to have. And I did. One of the problems? I was almost completely lonely the whole time. Despite being surrounded by people who there to "see me", I didn't really interact with anyone. Everyone was more busy with other people. I spent a great time feeling lonely amidst all these people, and when it came down to it, the people I really wanted to talk to/be with most had other situations to attend to and I did not see much of them at all. In some cases the excuses were valid, in others... I just felt plain neglected. Now this portion itself isn't really that big of a deal, I'm probably just sounding whiny.

The bad part was that later that night, when I would of gotten to finally socialize and do a fun group thing, I fell violently ill. I crashed onto Nika's couch with a fever and could not for the life of me summon up the willpower to do a damn thing. The next day was the same thing, and even though my mother organized a small thing with a cake and my father visiting, I was just plain wiped out. I couldn't even eat my cake. I had no appetite, no energy, it was one of the worst birthdays someone could have short of having someone die on the damn thing.

That whole part about the birthday thing though? That's not so bad. The divorce between my parents was alot worse. It was just unfortunate to have them stack like that. Those two things alone would make a year one not to be fondly remembered, but did it stop there? ********.

Somewhere edging close to Halloween, I was tired of me and my boyfriend getting in petty fights and him not treating me like a proper girlfriend. A certain happening caused my affection for him to--=and I do believe literally---split in two and crumble into dust. I underwent---only I'm still undergoing---a state of confusion about my feelings, or lack thereof. I plummeted into depression, and when I was pressed about whether or not I loved him, I could not bring myself to say yes, and we consequently broke up. It was my doing entirely, I had to break his heart. I was wracked with guilt and spent the rest of the month and then some brooding over it, wondering if I was a monster for being unable to love a man who tried so hard to repent for his mistakes afterward, while admitting eternal devotion to me. (he never stopped being devoted, he just messed up his priorities a bit.) After much deep thought, and much rectifying on his part, we were able to get back together very recently, but I am still building back up my feelings for him. There is like a brick wall encasing my heart, and I can't reach it very well. However, at least things turned out alright this time, so while that was a horrible experience it did not stay that way.

This is still not the worst of things to happen though. That, and everything else, pales in comparison to what happened shortly afterward. Let me begin by explaining that for the past while, my cat Samurai had not been eating very well. In fact, he stopped eating altogether and opted to starve himself until we changed his food brand. His movements had become sluggish and he seemed to have trouble with basic functions, though he never lost his intelligence. I tried to get my mom to take him to the vet, but she only agreed to set terms after I had a screaming fit with her that involved calling her a plethora of names no one would find pleasant. The terms were to clean my room, and thoroughly, and while under no circumstances I would normally want to tackle a job the likes of which it was, I happily hopped to it if it meant my cat would checked out. I was worried about him.

After a job that consumed nearly all of my Saturday, she agreed to make the appointment, only to skimp out on me after Samurai showed a sudden burst of improvement. This was a dire mistake, and I know this only now. It was temporary; he relapsed a few weeks later, when I noticed that once again the food was going untouched and he had dwindled to a skeleton. He was weaker then ever and spent most of his time sleeping. One night, I was absolutely terrified that he was suddenly going to die. I begged my mom to make an appointment the next day, insisting that he is sick and he needs to see a vet. So, she did.

The appointment was yesterday. This is when I found out that all the bad things that had been happening to me tapered off to this razor-sharp point. A quick examination and some bloodwork revealed that my cat had developed kidney cancer and was going to die. By all predictions, he will not live out December. I broke down in the examination room before the results were even in, when the vet presented it as a strong possibility. I think somehow I knew. I did not even think of it when I got him brought in, I thought it was a dental problem, something meds could fix... but subconsciously, I think I did know. Something so trivial would not of instilled so much terror as did his condition then did. That whole day, yesterday... I just cried and slept most of the day, because I had no will to do anything else.

My cat... I've had him for 10 years. He was just a baby when we got him, I remember the day so clearly. I remember all his brother and sisters crowding around my family, and Samurai being the one skulking under the table, but he was the cutest one. He captured all of our attention as soon as we clapped eyes on him. He is captivating, handsome, strong, loyal, and brave. We were never alone because we had eachother. There are so many memories I have... the times we'd play together, when he'd sleep with me, the accident he fought through like a tiger so he could resume life pleasantly. He'd been through so much, done so many things. I could not begin to list his life, but know that he is a amazing cat. He will always be amazing. When he stops eating entirely and refuses to, we're going to euthanize him so he doesn't suffer by starvation. I am going to miss him so much that I know, once again, my heart will tear irreversibly. I will lose another part of myself. One day, I know the sorrow won't haunt me every day, but I will never stop missing him.

He is my precious, my most important thing. If I could trade away anything, all my worldly possessions, limbs, my very sight, I would do it in a heartbeat to save his life. He is not that old for a cat, maybe not that young, but still too young to die. He should of had another six years, dammit... I feel helpless and despaired beyond belief. Whereas I didn't understand why I couldn't feel sorrow before, now my heart is filled with it. I cannot hold back my tears whenever I think of how limited his days are.

I'm going to try my best to make him happy though... I'm going to pay attention to every little need he has, no matter what I might be doing at the time. I bought him catnip today so the sensation can take away some of his pain and depression--oh yes, even though he acts happy by purring and cuddling, I know that he's hiding his sadness for us--and his favourite treats. I'm sure he could stomach those. When the time comes for him to depart from this world... I will not be anywhere else. I will be at his side, I will make sure he is loved. No matter how hard it is, I won't let death turn me away. He'll need me at that moment. I won't let him pass on alone, or with eyes locked on a stranger's. I want my face, me, the person who loves him most in the whole world, to be the last thing he sees.

While typing this is clutching my heart with an unspeakable pain, I am also filled with conviction. I love my Samurai with all of my very fibre and soul. I will be praying for him no matter how hopeless it seems, but I won't turn a blind eye to the truth.

This... all these things... This is my why this is the worst year I've ever had in my whole life. I have no idea how things could possibly escalate from this point on, but it's not impossible. I just... don't think I could handle much more. It's all too much. I'm a strong believer in karma, so I'm only left wondering what I've done to bring so much misery onto myself. Similarly, what kind of miracle could compensate for all of this pain? All I want is for my cat to get better. They say it's impossible... I don't know what to think.

I feel a tremendous weight on my shoulders. Like a gremlin is perched there, summoning all the bad luck to me, and in turn it effects everyone else who is around me. My poor Samurai... he never deserved this... to spend the last few months of his life cooped up in my room because of some jackass neighbors, only to die in one of the worst possible ways... How am I supposed to handle this? What will I do after he passes on?

Each day the world seems a little less of a desirable place to live in. All the daily tasks we're burdened with are so pointless. Why would I want to spend so much time on a joyless worksheet of math that will never have any real applicable use to me outside of that classroom, when all I want to do is be at my cat's side or try to fill myself with a little bit of happiness?

Humans enforce all the wrong priorities. We're all just ******** up beyond redemption, and no one who wants to can change anything because of the system. Money... money doesn't bring happiness, doesn't it? Who could ever truly believe that. It might give you a cheap sense of satisfaction but no amount of money could of solved any of my problems. It wouldn't of gotten Ricky or Dustin to fall in love with me when it mattered, it wouldn't of bought me talent, it wouldn't of kept my parents together, and it's not going to save my cat. If it could, I would sell everything I own.

My life is completely out of my hands. That's how fair everything is. That's what it all amounts to: a big, hulking sack of ******** bullshit.

This is my favourite picture of my cat down below, taken by Gabby on his 9th birthday I believe, and he is the most gorgeous creature I will ever know.

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I love you Samurai, and I am not going to stop hoping that things are going to be okay... No matter what anyone says...