i think you should just make pancakes alone. you could go outside, watch the wind push things around. you could try to catch the things the wind was carrying, but you wouldn't. this should not upset you. we're all, afterall, alone, in a sense, and nothing, not no one, not no thing, belongs to any one of us.
what you have decided about yourself:
you're going to be okay. with living, and all. if you have music and yourself and the intention to give a shit. you have to ask yourself, now, what happened to all the love you had...all the silly, soft peace you held like little baby birds. you put all that faith and peace into a restless and very broken heart. a wild, willful, terrible, lonely heart. you wanted it that way. his brother said to you yesterday, "i'm sorry you got caught in his path," as if you were a delicate feather or egg, like you could be broken so easily. you wanted to be caught, though. you wanted to be shot down dead like you were. you wanted to fight the ferocity within him and you wanted to try at least. and you did try...and even if you changed nothing, you gave him everything you ever had, every thing you ever knew, you ever felt that was good, or bad, or whatever. you know he hates that he hurt you. did you know that?
back to you, though. really. i believe the world needs you.