No amount of words can describe what I feel.
I loved him so much and now he's gone.
He took his life and left us all confused.
We are all depressed and broken now.
Struggling to pick up the pieces of his life.
He wrote everything down, in journals, notepads.
He once wrote that he wanted to give me his bible.
So it's mine now..and I haven't touched it.
I was stronger when it first happened.
I was the one who cried the least out of everyone.
I was the one who listened to his recorder.
5 hours of slurred speech and pain.
Now I can't even touch the recorder out of fear.
Fear that hearing his voice will break me again.
I just wish that he laughed more.
Or rather, I just wish I listened....
My brother fell down a six story building when I was 5. He went through tons of surgeries. He struggled to get his life together for 14 years but PTSD kept him from doing so. He shot himself on May 6th. I had been at work when my dad came and told me what happened.