Why did they have to die,

Why am I still here,

When will it stop hurting,

How much more can I take?

Is there a God?

If there is does he feel all my pain?

Does he care?

I hope he's hurting like I am-

A million times more, he's the cause of all this!

Well… I don't believe anymore.

No god.

Hollow. Cool. Dark, with echoes,

a comforting place to hide in,

so lonely.

Whirling thoughts,

I can't do this, I'm alone, I'm afraid,

what will become of me? What will I do?

Where's my mother? Where's Jesse?

Make it STOP! It's too much!



Tap the bubbles out of the IV line.

Smile when your patient cracks a joke.

Working without doing,

going through the motions,

action through inaction.

Am I really here?

Fill out paperwork.

Give an injection.

Hurry up, she's pulled out her foley again.

His blood pressure's dropping too low.

Feet are tired. Forget it. Keep walking.

I do nothing, but through me,

it all gets done.