Timothy Alan - Shia's Log: Day 13 lyrics

Day 13. November 4, 2012. 9:44 pm. “She's gone, Elliot. When I woke up this morning she wasn't here. I don't know where she went or if she took anything, but all I know for sure is that she's not still here.” That's what I told him earlier. I dislike lying to anyone I care about, but I'd dislike telling him the truth even more. He hates me. Even worse, he blames me for her leaving without even knowing the truth behind it. He doesn't say either out loud, but I know he thinks it. Call it brother's intuition. Call it paranoia. I would hate me if the tables were turned. I hate me now and they aren't. Now he just sits by the black-painted window, staring at its darkness. He's only ten years old. He wasn't meant to survive in this chaos. I thought about writing him a note and claiming it was from her saying her final goodbyes, but that would've been disrespectful to both of them. And he would probably ask questions, inquire about something. Probably put together things that didn't quite look right. The fewer questions he asks the better. The only one he's asked me so far is, “Why would she leave without me?” That sorrow in his eyes. But not just sorrow. Call me crazy, but I swear I see love in his eyes. Pure, genuine love. And hope. Hope that maybe all of this is some crazy misunderstanding. That she'll knock on the window any second and say she only went out to grab a snack. He doesn't know about the Hopebook, by the way. I write everything when he's sleep and hide it before I fall asleep myself. Not because I don't trust him, but because I don't want him to see the anxiety and fear I have regarding everything that's happened so far. I don't know if whoever's reading this is an older sibling or not, but just in case you aren't, our job is to be the part-two parent. In my case now, just the parent. You don't go to your parents to have them cry with you. You go to them to stop your crying, to comfort you in your time of need, to have them tell you that everything will be fine and that there's always calm after the storm is over. If they cried alongside you, what would get accomplished? Who would be getting help? Shed tears never helped anyone. Imagine if the leaders and kings in the world wept in front of their people. You don't let them see your tears. You don't let them think that there's even the smallest percentage of failing. Your face must be stone, and you have to give the appearance of being fully in control of the situation, even if you aren't, because it's not the tears that solve things, it's the actions after those tears that really matter. It's how you handle the situation that provoked those tears that makes you stronger. And the faith they have in you comes before anything. I don't want you to think I'm not saying that crying is useless. I'll be the last person to say that, but I refuse to let one salty tear fall from my eyes in front of my little brother. I refuse to have him doubt me for a single second. Not until this whole thing is over. He just sits there, staring at the darkness. Hoping. Wishing. Longing. Who am I to take that away from him? That wouldn't be very parent-like. Still trying to feel human, Shia.