It's been fourteen and a half days. Fourteen and a half days since my beloved nephew Chris left us. Fourteen and a half days since hopelessness and despair convinced him to end his life. Now the despair is mine. I'm left with questions that will never be answered, and a pain that will likely never go away completely.
I sleep longer now, so it must be getting better. I can eat now, and I even get hungry sometimes, so I must be feeling better. I don't cry as much, but I know that I won't ever be the same. How can anything ever be the same?
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