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E 'from June 10 to try to write this post.
Write to rationalize, to deal with them in some way.
As if it were possible, as if I could understand something of the injustice and pain.

a life that I would be happy but there is one thing that every second, every moment, every day, takes my breath away and the area of \u200b\u200breflection: it goes on, for heaven's sake, here you have broad shoulders.
The pain remains, anger me: want to get drunk, do not know, to forget, to turn away.
After all (and I have said many) is not my life: after all, is not something that concerns me. And the anger grows.

But yes, of course, you can always turn your back.
She is part of my life for sixteen years, three is my assistant in the office and his family is one of my adoptive families: Sure, sure, it's not my life, a beautiful shrug could adjust everything.

But I remember. I remember
padded Valium, fragile and weak to ask to be left alone for a moment in front of that green concrete.
I still feel the pressure of his mother's hand in mine, drove to the cemetery.
remember the fine drizzle, the cold of the hospital's mortuary. Last night listening to cry when my own tears I would have seemed an insult in the face of so much pain.
I remember that day in November when he called me screaming tortured
"Why have you waited three days to tell me?"
"Because until you said you was not true"

Maybe until I write it will not be true.
But the medical report of that shot I hit in the chest and I know that you know what I can not say. And it's true, true, true.
Nothing I can say or do will ever undo the hell that awaits you and I am helpless, angry, because of so many future I could imagine for you, my friend, is only one incoming, the most cruel, the more unjust.

I know you'll be next, I know there will always be, but every day the pain in your eyes goes right up to the heart, your anger becomes my, I throw them fight against the windmills in the name of your smile in the name of a moment that makes us forget the coming storm.
accept your anger against me: I try to make me rush, does not listen even when you're hurting me, in my silence I cry without tell you.

I thank you for what you gave me all these years: I would like to call it, I do not know how, but as things stand I can not, I do not understand, would not accept it. And maybe, I can not even say hello, in the name of your peace, to make you think that everything will be fine - as if you did not know - to make you think I can, ignoring drive a unjust fate, cruel bastard that your thirty years has brought a present awareness of being ordered to remain completely orphaned .

I wrote, tears and curses.
A wonderful woman who made me a mother is about to leave, my best friend is destined to cross the threshold of an indescribable pain, and I just want to curse.

Swearing.

's why I struggle to write.