On the last few days of our lives...

I got off.

I got off and I went upstairs. If he really wanted to talk it out he'd call. If he just wanted to be mean he wouldn't.

He called.

He called and yelled. I talked and I yelled.

But it was better then what we were doing.

Someone please shoot me next time I write something like the last entry...I'm 10seconds away from taking it down.

Jon's grandfather died. Its an egnigma. When my grandmother died he didn't know for like a week, I'm stuck between being there and letting him cope...

But I"m going to be there becuase this is me, and I'm just dumb like that.