Your dark brown eyes were sad, lost. You didn't know what to do with your life. And you know what? I didn't know what to do either.
There you were, addicted to the very things that would destroy your life. And you couldn't stop. And I didn't ask you to.
Even though I took care of you, it didn't make me feel any better. You were depressed. You were lost. You had no idea where your life was going and what you should do about it. You were dying at your young age and there was nothing you could do. There was nothing I could do. There was nothing the doctors or nurses could do other than try to make you comfortable as you passed.
But the ironic thing was that you did this to yourself. Even though I had warned you before, when you were younger and stupid, you continued with the things that slowly killed you.
You saw no harm in a little fun.
But sometimes a little fun is the worst thing for you.
