He was so young. It shouldn't have happened like this, like he had been torn to shreds. I'm in agony looking at his mangled body that has only been made worse with the attempts to save him. If Jack had cut his leg off I don't think I would be able to sit here with him in my lap.

I'm crying now, more than I've ever cried in my life. He was my Guardian, my safeguard, and I've always looked up to him. I never dreamed that someday he just wouldn't be here. I know we always fight, but now I miss his taunts and ridiculing. I long to fight with him, for at least I would be able to talk with him. I even want him to tell me I'm useless just to hear his voice. All recollection of his beautiful face and the way he would speak to me is slipping out of my head. I've already forgotten how he used to hold me when I needed it most, because this is when I need him the most. I need him now, now as he's dead and hanging limp in my arms.

I don't even remember my last words to him. I think we were fighting, like we always do on this stupid island. How I wish I could be at home with him, watching television together. We were so close and then things just got out of hand.

I can't stand it anymore, why isn't anyone trying to find out what happened to him. Where is Locke, and why the hell did he lie to the doctor who was trying to save his life. I am getting so sick of sitting here waiting to find out what happened to my brother. I don't know what to do but sit here and wait. It's the only thing I'm good at, isn't it Boone, sitting on my butt doing nothing.

I've decided to do a monologue about death because my Grandpa died yesterday and I need something to let it all go, so here's something for your enjoyment. I might fix it up later, but right now I don't have the mind for it.