Last night my little brother died. He was about three years old. He couldn't walk, he couldn't talk, and he couldn't speak. He could occasionally smile, and have constant seizures.

Regardless of that I loved him.

I can't even remember the last time I held him, or fed him. I wasn't even in the fucking hospital when he passed, instead I was home playing games.

I know the world is a fucked place when the life of a weak child is taken for no fucking reason at all.
It makes me sick inside to think that God would give someone a gift just to take it back.

And at the same time laugh about it.

R.I.P Arron.

"You watch me play.
I look away.
Your lights turn bright.
You found the light.

Take, off in space. You and I." ~ Jonathan Davis