Shattered.

"I'm sorry to inform you..." Those words are all to common to me. Those words are the hardest to accept. Those words can go fuck themselves. I tried to breath in, but there was no air. I tried again, again there was no air. My only thought was to call Cris. He picked up on the first ring, I said, "they called." My voice broke. He knew instantly. Our hearts in one instant were broken. Broken into a million little pieces. I some how managed to reverse out of the parking lot at my job, and pop an anxiety pill. It at least stopped me from hyperventilating. The tears were hot on my face, every part of my body felt flushed. I just needed to make it home. I called my mom and screamed into the phone, "Mom!!! It didn't work!!!" She said my name over and over, and I just sobbed. I managed to tell her that I was on my way home and I would text her when I got there. I hung up. Tears still flowing like hot lava from my eyes, I asked out loud, "why God??" "Why???" "God, why???" I was desperate for an answer. How could this be over so abruptly...those weeks of medications...the constant blood draws, the surgery, the transfer...it's over. It's over and I can't change the outcome.
When I finally got home, Cris was waiting there with open arms, and I said, "I don't fucking get it...everything was perfect." And then my only thought was to shower. Thinking it will wash the pain away. I stood under the running water, sobbing, cursing, begging, praying, thinking, breathing. Nothing made sense. Nothing. Still, two days later, nothing makes sense.