losing my brother.
The 12th of June 2016 started like a normal day for me, i woke up, rolled over and checked my phone. But something felt so wrong, i ignored it, thinking it was just my mental disorders acting up. I checked instagram and everyone was posting about a shooting in orlando, my heart dropped. A part of me said that it was just about the shooting that had happened the day before but an another part of me just said “Levi.” Because i knew you were there, and i needed you to be okay, you were my rock, and i didn’t want to do it without you. I looked into it and saw that a bar called Pulse got shot up, i checked your snapchat story, seeing you went with your friends to that bar the night before, i called you and i was already crying. No one picked up, no one told me anything for 18 hours. 18 long hours were spent worrying about you, thinking what if you weren’t alive. And i was right. You weren’t… My big brother, my rock, my entire fucking world, had been shot down, by some fucking idiot that was under FBI investigation, but was still allowed to buy a gun. Because that’s just how America works, right ? I wish you never left, I wish you never went to that club, I wish you didn’t take the bullet for that stranger, i am aware of how heroic that was, but I’m so fucking mad that you did that. I don’t want to do this without you, i love you Levi, and i miss you.