Would you say they find me unstable?

The past four days have been the ultimate blur. What was supposed to be a fucking blast of a week turned into the worst week of my life to date. It started out just fine - went and saw Doug Stanhope live, he was amazing. Got to hang out with him and his girlfiend for a while there. Drinking into oblivion. i was awake until around eight in the morning partying with some friends. i fell asleep and woke up around ten in the morning to the hotel room phone ringing. It was pitch black in the room and i couldn't find the phone so it stopped ringing. i realized i was alone in the room, Jenelle and Tiki went to the beach. So i laid back down in the bed and started to fall back asleep. Not a minute later the alarm clock in the room went off. i then flew into a full fledged panic. Smacking the shit out of the alarm clock and crawling under the blankets. About an hour later the girls came slithering back into the hotel room. Still laying in bed with my eyes closed i mumbled how the room was haunted. They of course assumed that i was drunk/hungover/sleeptalking/crazy. i rolled over and went back to sleep. Around hour after that i woke up to my phone ringing, and it was my sisters ringtone. My Aunt Vikki was in the hospital in Vallejo being read her last rights and getting an emergency baptism. It was the first moment in my life that i had no idea what to do. i was just standing there in the bathroom holding onto the phone while my sister rattled on and on about how my mother was a mess, and how they found her, and how my own grandmother had to give her youngest daughter CPR. All of these horrible images are being flooded into my brain and i'm standing in the hotel bathroom sobbing like a five year old girl without the slightest clue of what to do. i end up catching a cab, hopping on Bart, walking what seems miles dragging a suitcase to my truck parked in Martinez, hopping on 4, hopping on 680, hopping on 780, then hopping on 80, getting lost in Vallejo like i always, and eventually stumble into the waiting room...on maybe four hours of hungover sleep. We stay in the waiting room until.. well actually i have no idea how long we were in there. All i know is that it was a long ass time, and then we get news. She went so long without oxygen to her brain, to the point where she is 80-90% braindead. Meaning, she is going to be a vegetable for the rest of her life. The doctors want to run more tests, and will know more the next day.. so we leave. The next day we're there at the hospital again because my grandma has to make a decision. Everyone in my family is Mexican and therefore, Catholic. So there's this belief that Christ died on a Friday sometime around three o'clock *the ninth hour*. So there's this belief that when people die around this time their passing is easier. So at 2:45 p.m. my Grandma tells them to pull the plug. We're packed in the room when they do it. Just watching the pulse get lower and lower. i'm listening to my grandma talk to my Auntie and my mother is having a complete breakdown. My brother and sister in law are clutching onto eachother. i'm standing there watching everything. And looking out the window. Then looking at her pulse. And the whole time i am thinking to myself that this has to be a horrible dream. That i am going to wake up in that haunted ass hotel room and then go to see Mason Jennings. i pondered praying to god, even though i don't believe in him. i was just so hopelessly sad. She died within 15-20 minutes of them pulling the plug. After everything happened i was so devoid of everything, i was walking outside with Ian. He says to me, "are you gonna be alright? i mean...your favorite Aunt - your only Aunt just died." i nodded and told him not to worry, that i was "cool". But it was only when he said that, that everything became real. That this was the first person close to me, to go away. This wasn't some obscure cousin i knew when i was four. This wasn't some person i went to high school with that maybe said three words to me during the course that i knew them. This wasn't some distant friend, relative, acquaintance, celebrity, co-worker. Instead, it was a woman that helped raise me. It was a woman who i cared for so intensly. It was a woman who helped name me when i was born. i just can't believe that i am never going to talk with her again. Never going to laugh with her ever again. It hurts so bad. Everything hurts. i just want to scream as loud as i can. i'm so angry. i'm so sad. i'm so worried. i know that i am completely rambling, but i'm just typing as it comes to my head. This isn't something i'm concerned about having sound right or nice, i just need to let some out this out. A few months back her eyesight was really going away bad, even after surgeries. She was a hardcore reader, and it's because of her mostly that i am such a bookworm myself. Anyways, well she got me hooked on Harry Potter, even though i was psychopathically anti-Potter. It's true -just ask any of my friend from high school. After weeks and weeks of coaxing, she got me to read the first chapter of the first book. Then it was a done deal--- my Auntie turned me into a Pot-Head. So when her eyes went away i went over to the house and began to read to her. i got insanely busy/lazy and never got to finish the books with her. i feel awful. i feel like an awful person. And yeah, i know..you aren't supposed to do that kind of thing when someone you love dies. i've always told other people all of those lame things like "they wouldn;t want you to feel this way...blah blah blah". i will now, never tell anyone anything even remotely like that. Because it is lame and in no way shape or form makes me feel better. i feel awful and there is nothing that can change that. i will probably always feel awful. and miss her. and wish that i could have changed something, anything. Ugh. i'm over this.