I know I'm no good, I've known my entire life. And I know I'm no good for them. Doesn't change the fact that I miss them. I miss them so much.

Depression sucks and keeps me subdued, but losing them... losing them broke me. I've never been able to glue the pieces back together.

People wonder why I haven't gotten better. I've just lost too much to gain enough back. Would it make me all better for them to be in my life again? I don't know. I know I'd be happy, I know I'd celebrate, I know I'd hold them as long as I possibly could.

But I know I'm no good for them. I know I'd hurt them. So, I'm glad they're with people who'll protect them.

I want my boys back, but not at the cost of their happiness. So, I'll just stay sitting in my room, in my chair and thinking about them until I pass out; only to do it all again. I'll stay like this for them, for now. And over time, maybe I can heal enough to hold them again. I fight for them because, in the end, I just want my boys back.