I remember you.
You can't talk, but I remember when you could.
You know, before this stupid brain tumor.
Before we even considered someone like you having cancer, ever. You talked so much and were so happy, it's weird to see you, in that wheelchair, bald, eyes dull, and barely breathing. You're probably not even conscious, but I remember you when you weren't this way. I remember when you could smile and you had a full head of hair.
I remember when your cerulean eyes used to be so vibrant, and your skin wasn't quite that pale. There weren't those huge bags under your eyes, and your lips were pink. You had eyelashes and you had thicker eyebrows. You had these awesome turquoise braces, and I think they're the only things that are still there. I almost can't believe, ah, that, well, it's the same you. The same you from fourth grade, with the high-strung nerves and the guts to cry.
You with the short temper and the kind words and the funny advice. The one that would let me laugh at the inappropriate things, the one I would buy candy. The one that would go to the park with me. Now you're just sitting there, looking like some large eyed alien.
You've now closed your eyes and you're barely moving at all.
I remember when you'd forget your homework and use some lame excuse. I remember when you'd encourage me to skip classes with you. I remember you before you stopped living.
What the heck happened to you?
You cannot be Sora.
Sora is a breathing, alive person with cinnamon hair and vibrant blue eyes and a huge smile.
You're not anything at all.
I'm back from my trip.
I wrote this when I was supposed to be drinking with my parents.
Which I didn't do, but I did get all emotional and begin crying because they were drinking and acting really stupid. I was like "NO STOP THAT NO NO! ;;"
This is why I'm never ever gonna drink again.