I Dial Your Number On The Phone, And On Your Message I Slur A Plea For You To Come Home..
I remember one time someone told me I had a knack for writing. Here are thoughts, scattered and depressed, and hopeful and wishful at the same time.
Ricky's cousin was killed in Virginia. I cried for her. Though I did not know much of her, and that I did not know her more personally than the one meeting, I mourn. I mourn for her, for the families who won't have children coming home to them, for heroes who define the quintessential aspect of genuie heroism, for the families who won't have loved ones coming home, for the friends who have had the most special of friendships snatched away. I felt this emptiness in me when I heard the news, and I felt helpless.
An old friend had a friend snatched away from him. I mourn for him, and the friendship that is irreplacable that was taking so violently away. I pondered this for awhile, and while I still have no answers and will never have an answer as to why someone can take something away from people in such a selfish way, I'll never understand.
I study terrorism. I want to shape my life to make this my job for the rest of my life. I want to understand. I want to do so many things, and when I think about these things that have happened to my loved ones, I cannot help but feel as if I'm useless. I feel more depressed than I have in awhile, and I feel I have no words to describe. So this is what I write:
When such a hideous act happens in our lives, we find our memories to be our only salvation. In memories we live with our loved ones who have moved on. We find happiness in pictures, and we find life in our dreams. Although a passing of a loved ones comes with grief and uncontrollable tears, there are no words that one can think of to offer support. When life has taken someone so violently out of our lives, we hope and pray that they have moved to a place where nothing like this can ever happen to them again, where there is no suffering only happiness for them as they see us grow, as they see us remember them in every breath we take. We pray that every day we make it through the struggle of missing someone so much it rips you to pieces on the inside, and rest at night with the ideology that each passing night brings us a day closer to being together again. We remember the inside jokes that will live on forever in us, even if the other half of the joke is smiling from another place on us. We live for them, and we make them proud in continuing our lives with them in our heart. Although our hearts may be broken right now, the mending will happen with their help and they will forever live there, a piece of you that they continue to live because of you remembering them.
I'm so sorry. I can't begin to describe it, and what I wrote above is nothing but a hope for letting you know that despite distance and years apart, you're in my heart. Where you'll both be, for forever and a day.
Ricky's cousin was killed in Virginia. I cried for her. Though I did not know much of her, and that I did not know her more personally than the one meeting, I mourn. I mourn for her, for the families who won't have children coming home to them, for heroes who define the quintessential aspect of genuie heroism, for the families who won't have loved ones coming home, for the friends who have had the most special of friendships snatched away. I felt this emptiness in me when I heard the news, and I felt helpless.
An old friend had a friend snatched away from him. I mourn for him, and the friendship that is irreplacable that was taking so violently away. I pondered this for awhile, and while I still have no answers and will never have an answer as to why someone can take something away from people in such a selfish way, I'll never understand.
I study terrorism. I want to shape my life to make this my job for the rest of my life. I want to understand. I want to do so many things, and when I think about these things that have happened to my loved ones, I cannot help but feel as if I'm useless. I feel more depressed than I have in awhile, and I feel I have no words to describe. So this is what I write:
When such a hideous act happens in our lives, we find our memories to be our only salvation. In memories we live with our loved ones who have moved on. We find happiness in pictures, and we find life in our dreams. Although a passing of a loved ones comes with grief and uncontrollable tears, there are no words that one can think of to offer support. When life has taken someone so violently out of our lives, we hope and pray that they have moved to a place where nothing like this can ever happen to them again, where there is no suffering only happiness for them as they see us grow, as they see us remember them in every breath we take. We pray that every day we make it through the struggle of missing someone so much it rips you to pieces on the inside, and rest at night with the ideology that each passing night brings us a day closer to being together again. We remember the inside jokes that will live on forever in us, even if the other half of the joke is smiling from another place on us. We live for them, and we make them proud in continuing our lives with them in our heart. Although our hearts may be broken right now, the mending will happen with their help and they will forever live there, a piece of you that they continue to live because of you remembering them.
I'm so sorry. I can't begin to describe it, and what I wrote above is nothing but a hope for letting you know that despite distance and years apart, you're in my heart. Where you'll both be, for forever and a day.