I have a house of memories. Some are good Some are bad But they all make me Who I am. Some I don’t want to see again Some I wish would last forever Memories will always be there I wish some of the people in those memories Stay forever. I have a house of memories

Over the years, I’ve learned a little about life.. the way it goes so fast and takes so many people you love with it. I particularly remember one faint memory of mr. jackson.. and it wasn’t a good one. He had been very sick and was getting harder and harder to handle, his days became less and less and eventually I was reuniting with my child hood neighbor mrs. jackson at a funeral for a guy I particularly didn’t like. I had felt so bad for the woman, not because she lost her husband but because she was putting up with it for so long, and finally her fight was over. I cried- the first night realizing life doesn’t last forever and soon the sweet old lady would be gone.. so, I decided i was going to visit her.

She wanted to leave. She has been wanting this for a long time. I seen it in her tired eyes at two in the morning when she would switch the light on as I stumbled through the front entrance of our apartment. I could see the disappointment and fear of not knowing what I was going to say or do. I stand slumped over breathing heavily at her. She stood there silent gazing down on me with her arms crossed and her feet standing military fashion.

How drunk I was determined how I treated her. 6 scotches in im feeling a little frustrated and irritable, usually i try to limit myself to 3. that’s when I’m feeling loose and optimistic. But the night she left me I lost count after 13. I don’t remember much besides watching her blurry shadow figure leave out our front entrance. And I haven’t seen her since.

It’s been years

I don’t know what to say

But now I see you everyday

It’s hard to think about you

It’s hard to look at you

Please just stay next to me

No matter what

But now I see you everyday

I mean that’s the way I want to die. Alone.

Aiden was always referred to as ‘Bubble Boy’,or ‘The Boy In The Bubble’ by his classmates. The nickname was probably the only way many referred to him,and was slightly deserved.

He was always incredibly reclusive,as he had never been a social butterfly,or even one for small talk