(no subject)
he sounded so raspy all week, making the saddest sick whimpers
he curls his face into his chest. he wanted to escape his life so much he blinded hmself with his own crooked little fingers. i bent over him all afternoon, putting pads under his head, tracing his thin, fading hairline. i wonder if he realizes how intently i watch him and how amazing he is to me. nobody ever gave him a chance to be an emotional, thinking, creative person. nobody ever protected him from flying fists and hateful words which are the only things he can say. nobody took into account he has a chromosomal disorder that makes him predisoposed to emotional problems and developing post traumatic stress disorder. nobody was even there to take him the bathroom. [i think he was scared of the bathroom anyhow.]
He's one of the only reasons i want to be a nurse. Why I'm acting out the mother on all the crazies. I think of how he could have been compensated and of how worthy of life he is contrary to how everyone feels about retards.
there was this song as i was sweeping the floor with a reclined shannon and it went something like this:
daniel my brother you are older than me
do you still feel the pain of the scars that won't heal
your eyes have died but you see more than i
its seriously borderline embarrassing to put that, but there i was almost reduced to tears, tucking him in with one hand, hugging mary with the other. what will be left of him when he's gone? some cells in my head that remember his little face, maybe someday when i'm old, i'll think of how long and weary my life has been. then think of shannon and realize how long and weary it hasn't been. there won't be any pictures, no little babies to carry on. after mother, brother and sisters pass on there will be even less.
will they even buy him a gravestone? will there be a funeral? i will be left to carry on. i'm so proud to be his best friend.
he curls his face into his chest. he wanted to escape his life so much he blinded hmself with his own crooked little fingers. i bent over him all afternoon, putting pads under his head, tracing his thin, fading hairline. i wonder if he realizes how intently i watch him and how amazing he is to me. nobody ever gave him a chance to be an emotional, thinking, creative person. nobody ever protected him from flying fists and hateful words which are the only things he can say. nobody took into account he has a chromosomal disorder that makes him predisoposed to emotional problems and developing post traumatic stress disorder. nobody was even there to take him the bathroom. [i think he was scared of the bathroom anyhow.]
He's one of the only reasons i want to be a nurse. Why I'm acting out the mother on all the crazies. I think of how he could have been compensated and of how worthy of life he is contrary to how everyone feels about retards.
there was this song as i was sweeping the floor with a reclined shannon and it went something like this:
daniel my brother you are older than me
do you still feel the pain of the scars that won't heal
your eyes have died but you see more than i
its seriously borderline embarrassing to put that, but there i was almost reduced to tears, tucking him in with one hand, hugging mary with the other. what will be left of him when he's gone? some cells in my head that remember his little face, maybe someday when i'm old, i'll think of how long and weary my life has been. then think of shannon and realize how long and weary it hasn't been. there won't be any pictures, no little babies to carry on. after mother, brother and sisters pass on there will be even less.
will they even buy him a gravestone? will there be a funeral? i will be left to carry on. i'm so proud to be his best friend.