I still feel numb. I haven’t had a proper cry yet. Of course, I cried when Stu told me. But I haven’t had a proper cry. Because when I do, it means she’s really gone.

I’ve been emailing her a lot. Just writing to her. It’s cathartic.

All my text messages have gone. My phone’s been acting up lately, and every single text message has gone. I’m not fussed about most of them. But the ones from Lynsey… I’m going to take it to the shop I bought it from and ask them to fix it. I want those texts back.

My Mum is getting on my nerves. There’s this game on facebook that she plays – all the time. Dad and I have talked to her about it. And talked. And talked. Every time we do talk, it gets better for a while, but a few weeks later it’s back to the same old.

It’s called Dragons of Atlantis. She plays it constantly. When she’s cooking. When she’s watching TV. When she’s on the loo. The only time she doesn’t play it is when she’s asleep or we force her to go out. And not just that – but she’s on the phone with people from the game all the time.

We were in the car the other day, starting off our journey to go down south to help out with Nana – who has been discharged from hospital. As soon as we’re in the car, one of the players calls. It’s ruling her life. All she can talk about is this game or the people from the game. I’m sick of it. Dad’s sick of it. Even my Aunt is sick of it.

Yet she won’t admit she has a problem.

We’re down south, helping out with Nana. She’s been discharged and is at home, but she struggles. She has difficulty remembering things and has difficulty processing thoughts and getting the right words. Mum just sits in the lounge on her damn laptop or is on the phone talking to one of the players.

I’ll walk in to the lounge and Nana will be looking lost or confused. I ask her what’s wrong and she tells me – in her roundabout way – that she can’t remember how to change the TV channel, or where the toilet is, or how to change the volume on the TV or that no one is talking to her. Mum is sitting right there on the sofa, playing the game. She doesn’t even look up from her laptop. So of course I help – I don’t mind helping, it’s why I’m here. But how long was Nana confused for? How long has she been trying to do something and Mum is oblivious?

Mum is cooking dinner now. But she’s still on her laptop. I wanted to go out to the shops to get some things – cigarettes and a tooth brush. We were going to leave in the morning. Except Mum was on the phone talking to one of the players. Three hours later, she was finally ready to leave.

I’m sick of it. It’s affecting her relationship with everyone around her. Dad is fed up and to be honest, if she continues like this, then their marriage won’t last.

I know Mum is going through a tough time right now. But so am I.

I’ve just lost my best friend in the entire world – the one person I told everything to. The one person that would kick me up the arse when I needed to. The one person that I would go to hell and back for. My friend soul mate. She’s dead. I’m going to face my rapist in court in November. The uni might not let me back for another year, until the trial is over. I’m worried about my Nana. I have nightmares almost every night. I have PTSD. And now I have to be worried about my parents’ marriage? When we’re at home, Mum and Dad are constantly arguing about this game and the people she talks to.

And now she says that for her 50th birthday she wants to go to America for a week to meet some of the people from this game. Forget about spending time with us. Forget about going on holiday with us. No, she wants to meet people from this game.

I’m sick of it.

And the one person I would talk to about this would be Lynsey. She would give me some rock-solid advice. She would help me see things in a different light. But she’s gone.

My best friend is dead, and all Mum can do is play this fucking game and talk to her online friends.

Well fine, fuck you too, Mum.