You battled everyday.
Inside you were at war with your body for 20 years.
You kept fighting and never gave up.
Nothing would tear you down.
Nothing stopped you from doing what you loved. Not even doctor reccomendations.
You were a dear friend.
A role model to others.
Why did you have to go so soon.
I don't think you ever gave up.
I just think you did all you could bur someone decided to stop putting you through that hell for longer.
I miss you.

"stumbling home
in the evening
with my breath
smelling of cheap beer
and cigarettes;
people worry,
I tell them not to;
I do this for me,
not for attention
or sympathy,
I do this to feel
more alive,
because I feel so
dead inside
and my thoughts
are racing;
drinking shuts them up
for a couple of hours
and I feel better;
I feel sick,
but I also feel
great,
like I can do anything;
like nothing can hurt me;
is this what death
tastes like?
god,
I hope so"

Sometimes all I need is to be held and told that everything's going to be okay

They say you should celebrate
Instead of mourn.
But every time
I cannot find the heart to do
Anything but mourn

All I've heard the past week is
Screaming
arguing
And non stop fighting.
I've seen both of you storm out in rage
Only to come back hours later to fight some more.
I hear that word. Gthrown around like its any other word as if it means nothing. When will all this stop?