Last night of love, first day of terror

It was late at night when a branch fell off of the tree and scared me. Everything was messed up. Thunder, lightning, wind, and rain wanting nothing but to remove my existence from this Earth. So it felt. It was useless for me to go back to sleep. So I took my red silky robe, ran down the stairs, and decided to treat myself to a big cup of hot cocoa. There, holding the mug between my pale and skinny fingers, I watched the rain dance on the glass windows. His picture took a tumble down on the floor from the upper cabinet. ''Mhh, I thought I've put you away for good''- I said to myself. Maybe my life would have ended differently. People change. The world is moving at a rapid pace. I find myself living in a cottage core style house, in the middle of an old crappy town. My friends were petrified when I told them that I was moving. They know me well enough to say: ''Stop it. You're crazy. This is your place, love, lust, nest, everything.'' Since the day I saw daylight, my dream has been to live in a jungle of concrete, skyscrapers, traffic jam, and so on. However, my heart had a sudden change when it realized the f***ed up fairytale that I thought of being Heaven. Instead, I became more aware of people passing carelessly when a man is being shot in a dark alley, old people getting robbed for a couple of dollars, the abuse of the police officers and the list can go on.  In a big city, it's easy to lose yourself.  In a big city, it's easy to cry, because no one can see you. In a big city, it's easy to feel a nobody.  And then. there's little old me. A 28-year-old, single, and HAPPY woman, owner of a fine damn art gallery in the middle of my concrete jungle, the BIG APPLE. I had it all, I might say. Well, except for a family that decided to abandon me at the age of 10. My parents weren't happy, I was a pain in the ass, so it was a lot easier for them to drop me off at my aunt's house with 50 bucks in my pocket and a note saying: ''We are sorry. Please don't hate us. Take care of her.'' What a piece of s**t they were. WERE because I found out that they died in a car crash 5 years after my aunt took me in.  I don't blame them, may God rest their souls, but I don't feel pity or sorry for these types of people. Whatever. I ended up pretty good, with my aunt, Cordelia. An excellent woman, with a high sense of maternity and a lot of money which allowed me the finest schools, the greatest education, and a bank account with plenty of zeroes for the rest of my life. I wanted to develop my passion for art; so I did. The city, MY CITY, was plenty enough up until my aunt had no choice but to leave me behind, after months of battling with the worst enemy possible: cancer.     After her passing, something changed in me. I was there, present, but my city wasn't good enough no more. It was cold, harsh. The autumn colours palled and there was nothing left here for me. I saw it in its true form: a place filled with people not caring and always chasing dreams and money. The bigger the bank account, the higher the apartment and loft it is. ''What is next for me?''- I asked myself while packing up my last box.