i did not make eye contact with her. we did not speak. i'm not sure if these actions (or more like lack of actions) were intentional, or just a result of the lack of physical ability. she barely had enough energy to hold the bloody tissue up to her nose. she sat there, looking completely worthless to the every-day eyes, but i see her so differently.
i couldn't look at her pathetic, overused, weary eyes. because i cant look at her like i used to. i couldn't speak to her, becuase i didn't want to hear her thin words.
i know, we all know, that every passing breath she takes has the possibility of being her last. we all know, and we cant do anything about it.
and that's what kills us.