It's shit when your mate dies.

It’s shit when your mate dies. It’s shit shit shit.

Even if you knew it was gonna happen, it’s still shit.

Like, everyone is going to die at some point yeah?

But she was gonna die sooner.

You knew she was gonna die soon.

Like, some day soon but you didn’t know exactly when.

And then she did.

And it’s shit.

It’s shit when your mate gets cancer.

Even though everyone knows someone who’s had it.

But it wasn’t her.

And now it is.

And it’s shit.

It’s shit when your mate,

who’s only a bit younger than you,

gets cancer.

And she’s like, got a brilliant happy life.

She’s got a fab job and she’s gonna go really far cos she’s so brilliant.
She’s brilliant.

She’s funny.

She’s clever.

She’s silly.

She’s crazy.

She’s talented.

She takes no shit.

She tried REALLY hard at taking no shit from cancer.

She didn’t take shit from cancer for a long time.

For 8 years she fought it like a motherfucker.

She didn’t want to be a cliché.

She wasn’t a cliché.

She was unique.

But she really was.

She had the craziest laugh you’ve ever heard.

Think crazy.

Times it by a million.

Doesn’t even come close.

Then she had a lump.

And the doctors all said it was fine.

Again.

And again.

And again.

But it wasn’t.

But when the idiots in white coats finally believed her,

She had a shit time.

But then,

she kicked cancer’s butt.

And she THREW herself into life.

She grabbed every opportunity that came her way.

With both hands.

And a manic laugh.

And she lived and lived and lived.

Then she felt shit again.

She couldn’t laugh her crazy laugh without feeling shit.

She couldn’t move her arm up without feeling shit.

And she went back to the white coat idiots.

And guess what?

They said she was fine.

Again.

And again.

And again.

But she’s wasn’t.

She was in the shit.

As in, a baked potato sized shit lump,

Wrapped around her collar bone.

Making her feel shit.

And they gave her 6 months to live.

And again, she fought like a motherfucker.

And she lived as hard as she could.

And she did live.

She lived for 2.5 more years of butt kicking brilliance.

Some of the time it was shit.

It was very shit.

It hurt in so many shit ways.

But she still laughed her crazy laugh.

And she made thousands of people fall in love with her crazy laugh.

And she made people who felt shit,

feel less shit.

But as I said.

It’s shit when your mate gets cancer.

It’s shit when you know your mate will die from cancer.

It’s shit when your mate does die from cancer.

It’s shit shit shit.

It’s shit for the stupid shit pointlessness of it.

It’s shit because she had so much more to do.
It’s shit because of how much she wanted to do that shit.

It’s shit because of how brilliant she was.

It’s shit because of how brilliant she would have been at doing that shit.

And it’s shit because she won’t do that shit.

It’s shit when your mate dies. It’s shit shit shit.

Bye Bye Row Row. You crazy faced loon. I’m sorry it was so shit.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX