Recently I lost a family member. He was,my grandfather's brother (Great-Uncle), and though his cancer has taken his life, I know that he is in the hands of God. He was a great Father, son, brother, grandfather, husband, and uncle. We all miss him dearly, and though he's not physically here, his soul is watching all of us. This story is dedicated to him. He was a man of honour and he was so strong and willful. He fought his cancer until the end. So please, everyone, please take a second if you can, please pray for his safety and soul. Thank-you everyone, I truly thank you all with my deepest sincerity's. May he rest peacefully and safety in hands of God, amen.

Because I wanted to to be completely personal I wrote my own quote at the end. I thank everyone who has been put up with my unscheduled and late updates. I will not be updating this week since I've just started high school. Again, though thank-you all. May God bless you all.

TMI belongs to Cassandra Clare

When we were six, I called her weird. She laughed in my face, she laughed at Jace Lightwood, her brother's best friend. I was eight and I already thought I was better than everyone. I strived for the best, and knocked down anyone who got in my way. Clary was just my best friend's sister, nothing important.

When she was eight and I was ten, all the girls chased me around, except for her. She was different; she only relied on herself. She was different, but I never realized it. I never cared. I was popular, strong, and beautiful, she was the only one who could see through my mask of arrogance and realize I, too, was slowly withering away. But she was only my best friend's sister, why did I care?

When she was twelve she had her first boyfriend, I already had several girlfriends a year. I was the biggest douche. It was just a middle-school thing, but something inside of my told me I was jealous. I would see them together and pray to the angels that he would treat her well; only I didn't know I wanted to be that boy. But at the time, she was just my best friend's sister.

When she was fourteen, she was diagnosed with cancer. I ignored it. I kept telling myself it didn't involve me, but what I didn't know was when were family went to see her in the hospital, she asked for me. I found out after. I apologized for the first time in my life. It finally occurred to me, I wasn't just her brother's best friend. I was her friend too.

When she was sixteen, and I was eighteen; I was going to go to Harvard. I left her. Then her mom died a month later, from cancer. She cried for weeks, and never left her room. I went home to see her, to see my friend, to help her through days of struggle. We shared tears, something I only shed as a toddler. Together, we all huddled in the corner crying, weeping over Jocelyn's dead body.

She had to get tested for cancer again; the type her mother was diagnosed with could potentially be genetic. She had cancer, and it was bad. They gave her six months maximum. I cried by myself, and put a brave face on for her. It wasn't until six months hit, and even with a pale, pale face, glassy eyes, and no hair, that I realized I loved her. I loved Clarissa Morgenstern, my best friend's sister.

I never told her. I couldn't be so selfish in the state she was in. She was strong, though. She survived to her eighteenth birthday. She might have looked a bit different to others, but to me she was still beautiful. She was sassy, cocky, strong, determined, and beautiful, she never changed. And I loved her for it; I loved my best friend's sister.

She nearly made it to her nineteenth birthday. She was so close: twelve days. She died on her own terms, in her own bed. After she said her goodbyes to everyone she looked into my eyes and I just knew before she said the soft words, "I love you." Her eyes fluttered close and I scrambled to say the words before she passed, "I love you, too, for longer than you think." I only saw one last thing to confirm she heard; she smiled.

I didn't get out of bed for a month. I took a break from school and decided to go back in a year, but nothing in my life was certain anymore. I needed my Clary, my love. I cried for weeks at a time. Until one day I swear on my life I saw her in front of me while sitting in bed. She spoke to me, "I'm okay. Live on, be the man you are supposed to be." I've never believed in the supernatural, but now, I believe.

I am the owner of a world-renowned company; I only take in about seventy thousand a year, though I make nearly ten million. The rest goes to cancer research. I live comfortably, but I have no cooks or maids, no parties nor family. I lived my life to the full potential, but I never married nor dated anyone. In my mind I was still in love with Clary, in my heart I was still in love with her.

I thought about her everyday. I cried for her soul every night. I wondered if her red hair and emerald eyes were back to their original color. I prayed she was safe and healthy. She was all I thought about. I thought about what our life could have been like. I never wanted her to leave, but I never wanted her to be in pain.

So, I let her go. When I was old and my golden eyes no longer worked, it was time to join my love. My life was built on the sorrow of another, but I didn't mind. I realized how much one person could impact your life, and though you might not think they are a big part in your life, they are. I thought Clary was my best friend's sister, then my own friend, but truly, she was my one love in disguise. So don't look upon people because of their title, or intelligence, or religion, or language, or anything us messed up humans judge people on. Because nobody is perfect we're all just as sinful in some way, so don't put yourself, or others down, because eventually we won't be as gifted to have everyone by our sides forever.

"Our opinions are always disguised by what society declares is right. It takes a man of intelligence to recognize this, but it takes a man of a true, pure soul, to go ahead and declare their own opinions that is not influenced by society. So, do not judge on race nor colour because someone of high power says these people are useless. Only believe in one thing: nothing is completely worthless, because everything on this earth serves a purpose, good or bad. And if you don't believe any of this you are not a man nor woman, but simply a mere child, still with unformed opinions." ~Myself