By Kyra Oakland

My entire life, I always felt supported by the idea that my brother would be there for it all. No matter what happened to anyone else, he would be there for me. I knew he would catch me, ready to pull me from the wreckage. He was the one who would listen without judgment, protect me at all costs—no matter the circumstance. My soul tie for this life and the next.

Losing that sense of support has shaken me to my core, shattering me into fragments that will never fit back together. My personal identity, once secure, has undergone a transformation that is hard to recognize. Constant unraveling. I don’t know when this internal shift will end.

Some days, the weight of it all makes me sick—a constant ache. Other days, an unexpected sense of freedom washes over me, a liberation from fears that once held me captive. I am caught between grief, the unknown of what lies ahead, and this internal shift that refuses to settle.

Eight months have passed. Everything has changed. The world feels different through the lens of loss. Each day carries a reminder of what once was and what can never be again.

A newfound sense of remembrance—an awareness lingering in every corner of my mind. Independence has taken on a new meaning, feeling both empowering and isolating. It’s terrifying to realize, over and over again, that I am truly on my own. No one is coming to rescue me, no safety net waiting to catch me now or in the days to come. I whisper it to myself daily, as if repetition will somehow make it easier to accept.

Simply yours, Ky