i hate how weak i am.

i need you now more than ever, now that the past is repeating itself once again, after two years.
and now you're not here to tell me to toughen up.

you're not here to scare me into getting back on track.
your last words to me were "just because we're not talking...be smart."

i can't.
i've given up on all this...
what's the point really?
i'm going to die of a stroke anyway.
just like my grandpa, just like my aunt.


i can feel it in my bones.