If this was new, I wouldn't be surprised
I'm sitting here at the computer, trying to write something intellectual, but I realized, I can't do it. I'll try my best for those of you that even bother to read these, but I'm not making any promises.
As I sit here, writing the best that I can, I can hear the faint noise of the tv, and my brother in his bedroom, doing whatever it is that he does. And as all that happens, I silently wonder, what it would be like to never hear those sounds, or any for that matter, ever again. At times it would be wonderful if everyone would just shut up, and leave me alone. But I now know that will never happen. There will always be some idiot out there to bother me. And as I sat there, gazing at the snowy ground outside, I thought about all the things I could have done for you. All the things I tried to complete, but never could. How you hate me, for all the things I didn't do for you. How every time just one mere thought of you comes up, I feel like dying. How just hearing your name can make me tear up. How much I truely miss having you here. While holding back tears, again, I thought about you. I remember your face perfectly, and how you sounded when you said certain words. I remember how you looked that Sunday.. I don't think I'll ever get that picture out of my head. That sullen stillness creeps onto me in my dreams at times. The still picture of not having your chest rising and falling. The immaterialistic picture I have of you in my head, seemingly burned into my eyes, it's so vivid. Your voice plays in my ears like you were really there. The pictures on the wall of when you were well. Your bed made up on your side. Cold sheets again. You're gone, my friend. I did everything for you. Anything you asked was done by me. I remember when you got your lymphnodes out, and I helped with your bandaging. I remember when you were getting your chemotherapy and radiation in Redding, and I was there the whole time. Five hour sessions you went through every few weeks. The fifteen minutes of being burned that you did everyday at 1:15.. It was a few years ago, but I remember it like it was yesterday. hmm.. I suppose that I should leave and do something productive about now. But I figure, all that crap can wait till later. I'd rather go sit in a corner for a few days, but alas, I cannot. Way too many responsibilities for that. Plus, I couldn't stand not talking to a certain someone for more than a day. You know who you are..er, at least you should. There's really, very few people that even make a difference to me anymore. I don't really care for anyone, except a few good friends. I feel such indifference towards the world anymore. It could fall off of it's axis, or burn up, and I couldn't honestly say I'd care. It wouldn't make much difference to me if it was round, flat or not here at all. There's so much crap that goes on in it anymore, it's not even funny. Well, my hands are starting to hurt, so I'm gonna go.
As I sit here, writing the best that I can, I can hear the faint noise of the tv, and my brother in his bedroom, doing whatever it is that he does. And as all that happens, I silently wonder, what it would be like to never hear those sounds, or any for that matter, ever again. At times it would be wonderful if everyone would just shut up, and leave me alone. But I now know that will never happen. There will always be some idiot out there to bother me. And as I sat there, gazing at the snowy ground outside, I thought about all the things I could have done for you. All the things I tried to complete, but never could. How you hate me, for all the things I didn't do for you. How every time just one mere thought of you comes up, I feel like dying. How just hearing your name can make me tear up. How much I truely miss having you here. While holding back tears, again, I thought about you. I remember your face perfectly, and how you sounded when you said certain words. I remember how you looked that Sunday.. I don't think I'll ever get that picture out of my head. That sullen stillness creeps onto me in my dreams at times. The still picture of not having your chest rising and falling. The immaterialistic picture I have of you in my head, seemingly burned into my eyes, it's so vivid. Your voice plays in my ears like you were really there. The pictures on the wall of when you were well. Your bed made up on your side. Cold sheets again. You're gone, my friend. I did everything for you. Anything you asked was done by me. I remember when you got your lymphnodes out, and I helped with your bandaging. I remember when you were getting your chemotherapy and radiation in Redding, and I was there the whole time. Five hour sessions you went through every few weeks. The fifteen minutes of being burned that you did everyday at 1:15.. It was a few years ago, but I remember it like it was yesterday. hmm.. I suppose that I should leave and do something productive about now. But I figure, all that crap can wait till later. I'd rather go sit in a corner for a few days, but alas, I cannot. Way too many responsibilities for that. Plus, I couldn't stand not talking to a certain someone for more than a day. You know who you are..er, at least you should. There's really, very few people that even make a difference to me anymore. I don't really care for anyone, except a few good friends. I feel such indifference towards the world anymore. It could fall off of it's axis, or burn up, and I couldn't honestly say I'd care. It wouldn't make much difference to me if it was round, flat or not here at all. There's so much crap that goes on in it anymore, it's not even funny. Well, my hands are starting to hurt, so I'm gonna go.
