Dave stood in front of his brother's grave, looking down at it. This had been the 648th day that he had lived without his brother. He felt the tears roll down his face, but he quickly wiped it away, not wanting anyone to see that he was crying. In his mind, he was too cool to get caught mourning over some dead guy. But by the 389th day without his brother, he realized that even cool guys needed to cry once in a while.
"I wonder how many people visit here," He said out loud. "I wonder how many tear drops have stained the ground. I wonder what it's like down there. Is it cold? I wish you could tell me so I could tell someone in a letter that they should wrap me in a blanket before I get buried." He chuckled a little at this thought. "You see, Bro, seeing your name on a gravestone and knowing that you're under the ground is painful. I'm trying to find a way how to describe how I feel, and out of all the days that I visit you, I still can't seem to find the right words.
"I want you here. I want to be there with you. Anywhere would be fine as long as you're by my side. I miss it, I miss everything. I'm trying to keep the memories, but all of them are slipping away. I yell at my brain, and I yell and scream and cry, telling it not to let it go, but each tiny moment slips away. Just like how I let you slip away from me.
"Maybe if none of this shit happened, you would still be here. You would be waiting for me on the rooftop, waiting to strife. Of course, you would beat me, that's nothing new, but you're not there. For some fucked up reason I keep going up there, thinking that this is all a fucking joke and you're standing up there, waiting impatiently for me so you could laugh in my face and tell me how gullible I am to believe such a thing. But it's empty. There's no familiar figure standing there, there's nothing. It's all just memories wanting to be relived.
"But that's just the thing. I lay in bed and I relive them and relive them until I just can't relive them anymore. Sometimes I get to into the memories that when I finally stop thinking about it, it hits me like a pile of fucking bricks. It crashes down on me like rain during a huge storm. I keep telling myself that everything will be alright, but you and I both know that it won't. Nothing will be alright anymore!" By now, his glasses are smeared with tears, his nose starts dripping. His anger rises, his sadness rises. Everything that he's been hiding for the past 648 days have finally shown. He cries harder, finding it hard to breathe. He falls to his knees and looks down, his tears staining the dry gravestone.
"Just come back…I need you! I need you more than anything in the world. I feel so alone, I'm so scared. I don't know what the fuck is going to happen and I need you here to at least try and fucking comfort me! I can't be going to this fucked up, eerie place every other day just to remind myself that you're fucking dead and I'm still alive waiting and hoping that a fucking miracle will come and bring you back!" He's screaming, his voice cracking once in a while.
Calm down, Dave. Just calm down.
Calm? He couldn't be calm. He can't be calm. How can you be calm when the only person who took care of you is dead and gone? How can you be calm when you can't hear their voice anymore? How can you be fucking calm if you can't see them alive for one last time?
You can't be calm. It's impossible.