A mixture of the worst

I was never that fragile. Nor did I look like the one who would easily break down. The way I would walk with my head held high, people would turn around and whispers would erupt.

Hey, look. She's the girl in the army. 

Mommy. How many pounds can she lift? 

Oh My God. So much has happened and she didn't let a tear fall. Now isn't she strong.

The last one was quite true. So much had happened. Perhaps, too much to be endured by any other 25-year-old. 

But then again, that too, was true. Because what was happening was quite unbelievable. The first tear slowly makes its way down my cheek. And for some reason, I don't find that shameful. Only, I don't know why I was crying.

I shuffled through the glossy pages of my table calendar, each bearing one red circle. One on February the 26th. Mom died right after the plane crashed. 1st March: my sister succumbed to the injuries. 6th of June: the day I got divorced.

So basically I lost my family. And Dad? I probably didn't even know what a calendar was back when he passed away. The memory of his face, and voice too, is a faint one. But Mom tells me I was two when he died.

I produced a red pen from my drawer, sobbing and wiping the tears away wildly. Another red circle was on its way: the day my best friend died.

I have always examined myself closely. I don't have black fur or whiskers. Then why am I the black cat? Why does everything seem to fall apart wherever I step?

But there is just so much going on, the whirlwind of thoughts seems to confuse me more than anything. And as another tear falls, I realize, it's not just one thing that keeps squeezing them out of my eyes. It's the whirlwind as a whole. A storm called 'the mixture of the worst'.

It keeps growing as it gobbles onto every tragedy until you can take it no more and your eyes explode with tears. It's the storm...but you are never aware.