"Still sobbing bitterly, your little boy, his head buried into his pillow he isn't the rebel of the music world anymore. He can't take it, can't take the pain and he can't take the realisation that his grandma is gone. That in a cold, dark, white painted room her unmoving body lies, her soul long departed. He can't take the fact that while she was dying he was drinking his problems away, singing to half the world and laughing with his friends. He can't take it that while she was breathing her last he was driving home, singing madly with his brother to some shit on the radio, on top of the world. He can't take fact that he'll never be able to tell her all the things he wanted to and the fact that she'll never live to see what he wants to become. And he hates the fact that she never really lived to be proud of him because for all her life he was a failure, some fucked up freak in a basement drawing. She'll never see him save the world."
That hit me. Hard. This is amazing. Beyond amazing. I don't even have the words to describe it. Great, grreat job.
xox
Emily