my dear cousin,
who i've never known my entire life who lives in perfect miserable health who survives off of canned vitamins and tubes of gases and is stuck with elvis and bob saget 24hrs a day as her closest company.
my cousin who is at best not suffering too much and is stuck here without a single choice of her own.
every night her lungs are filled and the terrible coughs start again and nothing she manages to utter makes a fucking difference for anything to anyone.
she walks around all day and night in bright pink pajamas and looks sad as hell.
and sounds sad and tired and exhausted and finished done.
she was once a child. and she was once beautiful, a beloved daughter with dreams of the future and friends and school and worries and hopes and bad days and good days and dreams and dreams and ordinary things and love.
but that was all taken from her and nobody's to blame.
she's still a child now, left all by herself.