It's 11:30pm,
I have felt it coming for a while now,
I knew it was going to come.
The tears, the fear and sadness.
I lay here watching TV, everyone in bed.
Alone
I looked down at my chest
I felt a connection to my body I didn't think I had.
I love my body and I don't want to lose my breasts.
It isn't fair.
Uncontrollable sobbing.
I am scared and sad and I don't want someone to cut off my breasts and mess up my body.
It isn't fair and I shouldn't have to go through this.
But I have no choice.
It's the price I have to pay to increase my chances of living a long life.
I tried not to acknowledge the love for my body.
I wouldn't look at my breasts for months since I was diagnosed, because I didn't want to acknowledge the attachment.
Because I didn't want the pain of losing them.
I thought if I ignored them, I wouldn't feel sad about losing them.
It caught up with me, and I knew it was coming.
I could feel it.
I will miss them,
I will miss my body.