Today was my brother's 19th birthday. I can't believe he's so old.
Called him and sung to him.
Then I talked to my uncle. Things aren't looking too good.
I don't know what to do from this far away. I want to ignore it, but I can't. I want to make it go away, but I can't and I feel incredibly selfish for thinking about all these things and how I feel and how hard it is for me when I'm healthy and my grandpa is not.
I'm sick. I just want this to be a terrible dream. And everyone wakes up well.
I didn't want to come home for anything else. Nothing could make me come home, but now that's the only place I wish I could be. Home in America so I could be with my grandpa, with my family.
Born to die. Breathing to death.
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