*I Take Off My Sunglasses To Reveal A Second, Smaller Pair Of Sunglasses*

There is a certain horror in outlasting.

I am the perpetual survivor; steadfast eternal. As the world crumbles into sand between my fingers, I live on.

But dear God. I wasn't supposed to outlive you.

Trapped in my own personal Hell – doomed to watch my loved ones killed before me. And there's nothing I can do.

Thank you for loving me like your own.

I still think about you, by the way.

How could I not? We grew up together. You can see in our cadence, in our mannerisms. We are permanently intertwined to an extent, whether we we'd like to be or not. You shaped me, and I shaped you.

My father still talks about you too. We were products of our environment. And it was not fair to us. I hope you know that. How they spoke to and about us affected us in ways intangible.

I hope you are well, wherever you may be. I think I will always love you, in my own way.

Life is a highway and I am a Chevy Impala with my hazard lights flashing

Why does God give his toughest battles (cleaning up spilled lemonade) to his eepiest little soldiers (me)

I am violently and relentlessly kind.

So it goes, I suppose

I love you stuffed animals. I love you blankie. I love you bed. I love you pillows.

Katy Perry went to space, and we can't make QUIET leaf blowers? This is outrageous

Get crazy with the cheese whiz!