How Did You Live Through All That Shit Just To Be Brought Down By This? It Makes No Fucking Sense.

I brought you a coffee with one cream. Just how you like it. From McDonald's, not Starbucks because I know you hate Starbucks and McDonald's is your favorite.

If there is an afterlife, I hope that leaving it here for you means you can enjoy it.

I miss you

Happy birthday.

3 years ago today they sat me down and told me you weren’t going to be okay.

Not because of cancer or a heart attack.

Something stupid.

An accident.

I didn’t even know that the last time I spoke to you would be the last.

Somehow it wasn’t a fight.

Somehow, you complemented me for the first time in a long time.

It felt like a new start.

A tenuous truce.

And then you were gone.

Forever.

how do i become my own father? - Alexander Anthony Mar

Thought of you

And where you've gone

And the world spins madly on

-The Weepies

I miss the little whistle you'd do to get someone's attention. The little two note high low whistle. You used it the last time I spoke to you and it was a good conversation. I still use it to get the cat's attention because it's what he responded to best.

He misses you like hell.

So do I.

Aeschylus’ The Oresteia: Agamemnon (tr. Richmond Lattimore)

First snow without him.

I wish he'd yell at me to shovel the damn driveway.

How fucked up is that?

I want him back. Please god

Was told you talked to my sister a lot about how worried you were about me.

Somehow that didn't translate really well between you making fun of me and spending every holiday with her.

I wish I could give you a piece of my fucking mind right now.

Maybe I'll drive out to your grave and do that right now.

You got hurt suddenly, fatally.

I had my nose in the newest Andy Weir book and I was obsessed with it. The moment I heard my brother stomp on the floor above me, his door fly open, and the sound of an ambulance over a speakerphone lives in my brain.

It won't ever leave, though I didn't know it at the time.

You got hurt... A lot.

Like chronically.

On the way out the door I grabbed my book.

I figured you'd be okay.

I planned on a late night in the hospital, letting my mom go home to sleep while the kept you for observation and, hey, I could read my book.

I never opened that book again.

I returned it to the library unfinished.