At the ripe age of eight, in the middle of my aunt’s wedding, there was nothing I was angrier about than my outfit. I hated my dress. I can’t tell you what it looked like, but I feel safe to admit, now, that my outfit was pre-planned and not by me. In walks Grandma, complimenting my outfit, the oldest and best hype woman anyone could ever ask for. I told her how much I hated my outfit all the way down to the shoes. You know what my grandma said? She said if she could, she’d wear them. She thought I was the prettiest little girl in the world.

I conned my dad’s newest wife out of wearing those horrid heels and then instantly, shoes in hand, ran to her room, telling her she could wear them instead. The joy and surprise on her face told me she cherished that moment. That moment wouldn’t cross my mind for another eight years.

In second grade, she came along with me to grandparent’s day. When it was my turn to introduce her to the class, I blanked.

“Alright Leyla, now introduce your grandmother to the class.” I panicked. Not because I didn't know her name, but because as a kid you never used her name.

I couldn’t introduce her as Grandma, that was what everyone called their grandmother. After embarrassing myself once more, the moment passed and I realized it wasn’t illegal to call your elders by their first name.

Four hundred and ten days ago, Meals on Wheels got concerned when she wasn’t answering the door. No one had heard from her in a little bit too long.

In movies, the director’s skip all the molasses-like plot points from receiving the news of a tragedy to the day of the funeral. I never realized how much actually happens between the two.

I see a message. I answer the call.

The color in my face drains faster than I ever thought could be possible. My hands shake as they grab for the person nearest to me but not my dearest. For my dearest is now gone and I cannot feel any emotion at the moment.

I sit in silence with one mere thought: the loves of our lives, in order, go from our mother, to not really a father, then on to our grandparents.

That day was terrible.

I had been waiting for months to come for the biggest film festival in the southern belt to happen and now, here I am, wanting nothing more than to leave. I experienced the odd experience of spending a full weekend, cold tears constantly running in front of peers, strangers and A list actors.

I feel the tears welling and my hands shaking.

I sit alone writing a day to remember.

Today, I learned the difference between shock and surprise. Shock causes you to emotionally detach while surprise deepens our understanding.

I have always known the difference but today, the difference between loneliness and being alone is major.

I learned that you are able to feel both at once.

From film to unfulfillment.

My fists stay clenched, I want to scream, I want to close my eyes and never open them again. I feel hatred toward my loved ones who ditched me far away during the hardest time of my life surrounded by people who don’t care about me. I want to go home.

I walk with my eyes closed and think thoughtless thoughts of one particular thing I cannot shake.

I shake all my previous stress off to make room for my newest ones.

My expectations, high went to basic survival techniques.

my oldest and bestest friend cannot be reached. cannot be touched or talk, she’s gone.

People always say distractions help but the truth is you never forget, because it’s always on my mind.

Not slight, all my thoughts revolve around you.

All of my thoughts revolve around one phone call. And one piece of tragic news.

Visit Leyla's page here.