This is your last year? No more thanksgivings, or christmases - selfishly, I hope they're wrong.

If I'm in your beautifully selfless shoes, I hope otherwise - that maybe this awful outlook should become...

You wouldn't want this...this pathetic form of "life", rather this non-life that who knows how has fallen upon you.

It's cowardice not going down there. But I can't look at it anymore. I'm not leaving you high and dry bro - you wouldn't want me or anyone to see you like this. You didn't know self-pity, ever, and you wouldn't ever want me or anyone else to pity you either. You'd spit at this.

So let this wretchedness go away.

Thanksgiving: hard to imagine what I give thanks to...but at this moment it's thanking you for being the brother who I love in every strecth that that word encompasses...

eff the nightmares...what I hope to dream about tonight is one of those times we shared that were utterly perfect. There's nothing I wouldn't give to have just an afternoon like the ones we shared.