I made it a good while yesterday without crying. The entire day, in fact. I had a decent time at dinner and even laughed some. When I got back to my parents and walked in the door, my grandmother was on the phone. She was calling to tell us that Evan's picture and a thing about him was going to be on Nancy Grace, in the 10:00 hour.

I was going to a friend's but told him we would have to flip at around 10:45.

There I sat, staring at my brother's face on CNN. Evan Marshall, American Hero. Quiet, witty. Leaves behind parents, Drew and Sheila, and sister Alice. I think the media aspect of Evan's death adds to the whole dream-like feeling(I'm sure everyone is tired of hearing me talk about how this feels like a dream, but it's true).

I joked that I was "famous"(since my name had been on CNN). This may seem odd to some people, and of course, it's not really about my name being on TV. This is my defense mechanism. I joke so I don't cry.

They also had a video of a soldier getting the medal of honor. McGinnis, an American Soldier, was perched in the gunner's hatch of a Humvee when a grenade sailed past him and into the truck where four other soldiers sat. He shouted a warning to the others, then jumped on the grenade. The grenade, which was lodged near the vehicle's radio, blew up and killed him.

They said McGinnis easily could have jumped out of the truck and saved himself. In a split second decision, he jumped on the grenade and lost his life to save 4 others. At 19 years old.

I don't understand the kind of bravery these young soldiers exude because I don't have it.

I remember when the Army recruiter came to our house. Mom joked that I made a beeline up the stairs, because I sure wasn't being recruited for the Army. I don't have it in me. We got a letter from him shortly after Evan's death. I felt some anger towards him, but I've let it go. I think I just wanted someone to blame, and he seemed like an easy target. Of course, this hurts no one but myself.

To be an American soldier and put your life on the line day after day takes unexplainable courage. I feel certain Evan thought about his own death, as I'm sure all of the soldiers there do. I can't imagine watching people die, hearing of other fallen soldiers..and not thinking about it. Two from his own platoon were killed right in front of him on his first deployment. Someone I communicated with shortly after Evan died sent me a letter he had written to his parents if he didn't come home. I've heard of many soldiers doing this.

We never talked about anything he saw over there. He didn't tell us, and we didn't ask. I didn't really want to know to be honest. I still think about it sometimes, and wonder. But I think it's better that I don't know. My mind is a battlefield.

The tears finally came late last night. I couldn't stop them for the life of me. I don't know how I held it together as long as I did, as I can only hold it in for so long. Usually I cry when I'm alone, but I happened to be in the company of a friend. I found myself apologizing over and over again for crying, as I usually do when I cry in front of someone. I guess that's why I do it alone. I don't want to make anyone uncomfortable, and I KNOW they don't know what to say, so it's just easier and less complicated if I do it alone. A lot of times I don't need anyone to say anything. I think people mistakenly think they need to say something when sometimes there just aren't words. I guess it depends on the person. In this case, there was no awkwardness, and I was actually quite grateful to have their company in that moment.

I'm frustrated. I'm struggling. All I want to do is "get better", and not be sad anymore, but that's not how it works. I guess I just have to pick myself up and keep surviving until I feel like living again.