Time is a very precious thing. Everyone runs out of time. That's why time is so special. There are good times and bad times. When Gabriel died. That was a bad time. When we both turned two. That was a good time.
From the time we're young to the time we're grown our parents and everyone around us tell us to be ourselves. But what they don't tell us is how we will be judged for being ourselves. When we cry about it they just say "Sticks and stones may break our bones but words will never hurt". As if a broken heart doesn't hurt more than a broken arm. I'd rather have ten broken bones than basically loose my brother. I should have cherished my time with my brother. Because after all, time is precious.
