So every weekend I have been staying at my brothers house because I always have something planned there in town, or it's a holiday, or my parents came down (Really, I would rather drive 90mins to get to my brothers than 5 hours to go home). So just stuff like that.

I'd always arrive at the house before anyone gets home, I'm done at like 12 on Fridays so really, of course I would be the first one to arrive. I would unlock the door and instantly be greeted by Dakota, moaning and being all excited to see someone. No, it's not because she has to pee, I could let her out and she'd do her business and then come back in and act the same way. She always just got excited to see me.

She was pretty much my dog too, but not, more my brothers dog. The only reason I say that she was kind of like my dog was because when my brother and his girlfriend first got her, they were living in a place that didn't allow pets. So Dakota lived in our house for a little while until they got a different place. And even then, before we moved back to Alberta, they moved in with us. Dakota and my dog, Tessie, are a month apart in age, they are like BFF's.

Last weekend, same thing. I arrive, get greeted by Dakota, get lots of kisses, I scratch her rear end, she lays down but keeps her butt in the air and then I let her out and then we just play. She was always so happy. Well, this Friday when I arrived, I arrived late, after everyone because I had to do something for my practicum in a different city. But I didn't get greeted, I didn't think nothing of it, I came in quietly and then went and sat with my brother and the family. Kota laid by my feet, I just figured she's tired, it's been a long day, and I know she's sick.

I don't know if I said anything, but a little while ago Dakota was given a diagnosis of cancer, she's been on medication, but she's always been so happy and playful still.

Anyways, Saturday morning I wake up, my brother calls me, he's on his way home with Kota and the girls. He took them out to birth mothers place to run around. Except she didn't run around. They came home and my brother went to go let Kota in from outside but she was laying by the fence and when called she wouldn't move. My brother went to go get his shoes and I went outside, bent down and just called her over and she slowly got up and came inside. My brother brought her bed down from his room and put it in the living room so she could lay on it. She stayed there for 3 hours. She wouldn't eat, she was throwing up, she just got worse in a matter of 48 hours.

My brother took her in yesterday afternoon and put her down. It was the hardest thing he has ever had to do, and I hate seeing him cry. It makes me cry and with the situation it made it so much worse. I loved Dakota like she was my own dog. My nieces are 4 and 2 and were told that Daddy was taking Kota to doggy heaven, they understood, they gave Kota a hug goodbye.

Amy doesn't understand, but I think it really hit Amber after a while. She was suppose to be getting her costume on and she came into the kitchen crying. When my brother asked her what was wrong, all she could say was "I want Kota" It broke my brother's heart as well as mine, it was her dog, Dakota has been there since she was born.

We were having supper this evening and as my brother was putting salad on his plate, he smiled and said with such a sad tone "Normally Kota's in here at my feet looking for food and I have to shoo her away." And then he broke down crying again.

I remember when she was a puppy, we had a baby gate up at one entrance of our kitchen, and my dad had made a gate out of our old rails and attached it to the wall. The dogs were in the kitchen and my brother in the dining room on the other side of the gate. He called for Dakota, and she was determined to see her daddy. She squeezed through the rails. They were just big enough for her to squeeze through but still small enough that when she did get through, it had pushed poop out of her.

When both my dog and Kota were in the back of my brothers truck, they stopped at Dairyland and got ice cream, gave one to Dakota and the other one to my dog. Kota finished hers up so fast she was trying to get my dog's ice cream.

Always taking the bone away from my dog, when there was five others laying around.

Laying beside me at night when I stayed at my brothers, all night until just before morning (she wasn't allowed on the bed, but that's our little secret).

Being so patient with the girls when they started to learn to walk and grab, they started to pull her tail and lay on her, and she just laid there, not making a sound or flinching.

And so much more memories. I'm going to miss her greetings every time I go to my brothers. It'll never be the same walking into their house.

I feel like crying and I want to write, but the feeling to just won't come and I don't even know how to write the words I feel. I feel like everything that was suppose to happen won't happen anymore. I'm having the worst time of my life ever (sure I know that there are people out there who suffer worse than I am but I'm just having one of those days).

I miss Tom so much. He always knew how to cheer me up if I was feeling like shit. Sure my roommates can come in here and say something and I'll smile softly or whatever, but it doesn't change how I feel right now. Its been over one year since Tom has passed away and it hurts every day. Almost one whole year since my so called best friend just randomly stopped talking to me, with no explanations. The person who I loved the most but wrote out of my life came back and all the feelings I once had came rushing back, only to have them crushed again.

How do you go and put four to five years into something and then just throw it all away? How do you get off on doing something like that.

I have the urge to create pain and get rid of all this but it's been four years. I just can't do it, or I'm scared to. I know the feelings and release of it will all come rushing back. How did these feelings all start, when did it all begin.? Was it from moving all the time, from watching and listening to my parents fight constantly when I was younger. Was it the abuse I sustained from my brother all these years?

When I use to speak with Karen, she told me that she believed I probably started to feel all of this in my freshman year of high school, when everything started to spiral out of control, but I probably started to suffer long before. I wish I knew when, so I could go back and change everything.

The feelings are great, I hate these feelings, but it's like it's all I know. Everyone I held dear to me and close to me is gone and no longer apart of my life and I know I won't ever get them back. It hurts all the time and I'm losing ways of coping.

The urge to cry is right there, in the pit of my stomach and I can feel it in my eyes, but it's like I'm all dried out. Or my body/mind is trying to hold it together for me. I just kind of want to break down. I wish I could break down but I know it's not going to happen.

Nothing good ever lasts. I'll never be able to stay happy, I should have known that the streak would have disappeared. I don't get it, I want these feelings to go away, but I know it's not going to happen. I'm always going to have my ups and downs and I have to start finding ways of dealing with them. I can't keep leaving it inside of myself and bottling it up all the time but it's the only thing I know how to do now since everyone else is gone.

I lay here with the knife flipping through my hands and look at my arm, noticing the tiny incision I made so long ago that just won't fully go away. A lot of the scars barely show anymore but this one just seems to stick out. I'll have that reminder for the rest of my life so why not create a few more for all those times that has caused me so much pain.

I still have no idea how I got through four years of never creating another mark on my skin, it's hard sitting here as is. I can't concentrate on my work in school, maybe I should have put off coming to college.

I just feel myself sinking deeper and deeper into this hole and there's no way of getting out. I wish I had strength. I have trouble with my self-control. That tattoo is for nothing if I break.