It's weird knowing I won't die as a teenager.

I always thought I would. One more reason I've always felt it should have been me instead of him.  But I've outlived him by two years now, I'm two whole years older than he'll ever be.  Born four years before me, he'll remain 18 forever, but who knows how much longer I'll make it.

Make it?

Twenties. I should be doing something with my life. I spend my days running around with little children grabbing at my knees, looking up in my eyes, relying on me to solve their problems. Baby-fine hairs getting stuck to their tear-soaked cheeks. Problems, little as they are, seeming like gigantic problems in their eyes.  For me, they're so easy to solve. Is this how people look at me? Naive, unable to handle my own life, uneducated and undeveloped?