(3)
To say that I'm shattered would be a gross understatement. I haven't known how to live since. I was already drowning in my own misery, then the universe took away my buddy. I am in pieces. I had spent the last 5 years of my life avoiding any love I was offered, because I knew in a sense, when the fun is over, grief is the price we pay for love. I sabotaged friendships, relationships, stopped talking, stopped replying, stopped seeing people, stopped taking chances, stopped living completely because I had learned early on that nothing was ever worth feeling this type of pain again.
Mylo was the only being I allowed myself to love, because I thought he had a lot longer. Persians live at least 10 years, the average life span being 14 years. That was more than my age when I got him. I thought, it'll be a long time before he had to go, and I was gonna make his time worth it. Then he died, in the worst way that a living being can die. Mylo was the kindest, gentlest, sweetest little boy anyone had ever seen. He cuddled with me more times throughout the day than I could count, he let other cats steal his food, and instead of getting mad at them, he pet them gently with his paw. He felt my sadness, and at my lowest he would stop eating, he would cuddle with me and sleep next to me until I was all better. He loved tuna, and chicken. He loved glass marbles, sitting in windows and playing with dream catchers. He never hurt a soul. Heck, he was scared of birds. He was the goodest boy. My lifeline and my best friend.