On February 27th 2009 I died... I'v been mourning ever since. Grieving just in hopes that one day I will breath again... One Day This poem was inspired by my tragedy:
It was like trying to clean up shattered glass with out a broom... My entire being had come crashing out of the cave of my body smashing into the ground with out resistance... I mourned my own death like a mother losing her child. This person that I had worked so hard to become and had grown so fond of was no longer anything to be proud of. Who was I? Who had I become? What would this thing do to me and my future? WHY ME GOD? The big pieces were by no mean easy to pick up but they unlike the shards were less painful to endure... Day after day I tried to but myself back together. My life had become a constant game of jenga, just as I was about to put the last piece in it all would collapse. And I alone would once again have to figure out how to pick up the pieces. Still when I got to the last piece I had sitting on the table there were always some missing... My puzzle was always incomplete, my life was no longer filled with genuine laughter. Instead the struggle to get out of bed in the morning had taken precedent. I was taken captive by grief. The salt from my own tears became my most frequent form of nourishment... Silently with intent I'd stare into the wall as if it was going to bring me back to life... Since I died I've been grieving and I don't see myself ever breathing.
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