Some days and weeks all mix and merge together, where you can feel like life is okay.
Where you will look back on things and have a rememberance of the experience, but not be able to feel it anymore.
Then you will have these weeks.
Where it becomes overwhelming. Where the point and meaning to you being here is entirely lost, buried and forgotten with the dreams and hopes and eyelashes of his life.
These weeks the failure of my job is greater than the air I breathe. My instinct to protect has no where to go.
The tears that shine bright beneath my eyes spill over and form pools of disbelief and hopelessness.
My little brother is gone. And I do not know what to do with myself.
My pain is too great for my body.
Too great for this pen and page.
Too great for my house and my streets, it flows faster than the river and grows
higher than the trees.
Love remains but all is lost.