Every year I hate this day. And it never gets any better.
Every year I relive the first 24 hours as if it were a movie.
But it’s sad that I still dream at night that its all a dream and it never happened. But he’s always stuck at 13 and I’m always the older sister who didn’t treat him right (I don’t think that’s completely true because he knew I loved him. I guess he just didn’t know how much.)