It has been five months since I've left my house... five months. Exactly the amount of time that has passed after his death. I refuse to open my curtains or even to look out my windows. My smile is something not one mirror in my house has seen, and it hurts to attempt to laugh. Sometimes I feel as if I am a monster, but in my heart and soul I'm most certain there is an angel deep down inside. My conscience tells me that I should go outside these walls, that if I do not I'll die just like him. But maybe that's what I want, just maybe. I feel so afraid of living, so helpless that I couldn't do anything to keep him alive. Listening to his favorite music, watching his t.v. shows, it's silly, yes I know. But it's how I make it through each day. I survive...only for the human in me. Struggling to be brave and have not an ounce of fear inside these walls. The more I try, the more difficult it becomes. Death would be an easy way out, and I'd feel no pain. But what about my family? My friends? I have to fight this, I must persevere. I reach for the door, turn the knob, as my heart pounds so loud, I can hear it like someone beating a drum. The fear is so real, but i refuse to allow it to control my life, to let his death be in vein. I open the door and feel the most wonderful breeze on my face. The sky is a beautiful powdered blue, and cars are driving by. I step outside...inside I want to die, just as he did, only the human inside me yells "live!!!" Finally, I have the strength to live. I'm not afraid. Five months later, I'm not afraid.