we sit in a quiet room on a cold saturday afternoon. it is silent at first but i know there is something on his mind. his frustrated look tells me right away. so i keep quiet, and wait. he has this horrible habit of mumbling when he wants to tell you something important, and so i have learned to keep my mouth shut and to always let him finish when he speaks.

most of the time he doesnt need an opinion anyways, he just wants to get it off of his chest. he needs a vent, and because i know most of the story already usually it is me.

i wonder what it would be like sometimes, to live like he does... he is so much stronger than i will ever be i am afraid. but it takes work, and it takes time to get to where he is. work i can and am willing to do.

sometimes i forget i am still so young. there is so much left to see, and feel, and live.

the future is terribly exciting i believe.

he makes me see this, though he doesnt realize it. he is the reason that i can believe sometimes.