My sister has a doctor's appointment, and we don't know why. But she's broke, so if she's going to the doctor's, it has to be mildly serious. Is it bad, that I'm sick of this? I am so tired of the sickness, of the people who might die, who could die, and the worry that lays so heavily on my heart.

I'm afraid to go to Michigan, now. I'm afraid to go to Chad's for Thanksgiving. What if she dies? What if I'm away, and my mom dies, and I can't get home in time to visit her one last time? What if she dies and I'm at school, in Michigan, and I can't get home for the funeral? I don't think I could live with myself. What if she dies, and I am still so angry at her, for forgetting me, for abandoning me, for not even trying a damn bit for me...what if there is bad blood between us, forever and ever?

I love my mom, and I love my sister. I hate what we are, though. My heartstrings are twisted and strained, and I'm sick of digging my heels in and holding on to people who don't want to hold on to me. I torture myself with my own love, and I don't know why. Why can't I just give up on people? Why can't I just let it go? Why can't I admit that there is nothing I can do for either of them, that I have absolutely no impact on their lives, that I am nothing to them?

But it's there, like a pulse, beating in my head. What if she dies? What if she dies?

What if she dies?