(no subject)
my grandfather had a heart attack at 3am Feb/10. He died in the ambulance. They revived him.
he's alive, but he just barely made it.
it takes something like death itself to make you realize how much you need a person in your life.
i respect him and love him more than anything, and he's been everything a grandfather could be.
and to think that just 4 hours earlier i was sitting in my room dwelling to Dark Side of the Moon with scissors hovering above my wrist.
i had a bottle of pills downstairs waiting.
i take my life forgranted, and meanwhile he's fighting for his.
i can't even see him.
my dad's mother is dying too. she fell in the bathroom yesterday.
why the fuck does this happen to people? its cruel.
and i hate it.
there isn't a God, because no one would allow people to suffer the way they do.
this could turn political, but i've been through Catholic school. i know what this shit is about.