We all fall down. I remember ring around the roseys pocket full of poseys. I also remember when I found out how that song came to be. The Bubonic Plague or The Black Death. When people died they lined the streets with their bodies. It began to smell. Hence the pocket full of poseys. The flowers kept the smell away until the bodies were burned. Ashes, Ashes. I picked John up from the funeral home today. He's compacted into a nice little plastic box. The lady showed me how to open it. Like I will be using his ashes daily. A sprinkle of John to take away those nasty odors. My mother's a nervous wreck. I'm fine. I guess. I keep thinking about those stupid guys. Keith, Pat, and others. I am becoming a weeble. I need to gain self control again. It's just been hard this week. Death, death, death, crying, crying, crying. Fun times indeed. Nothing feels real right now. It all feels like some cloudy illusion or some distant dream. Tomorrow I am going back to classes. I have tests. I will fail them. Right now I don't care. I don't know how to feel right now. I wish I just had someone to shake the hell out of me and tell me that everything is going to be okay. I should read more of the other diaries on this site. I don't really feel like it right now. I don't feel like anything right now. No, wait I feel like having a beer right now. I shall. Done.