Format the following passage properly, for storytelling purposes. Keep it as written, don't change a single word, but improve grammar where necessary.

In the distance a familiar voice expresses her thoughts on something, seemingly perplexed or a little bit bewildered. It's a voice I have not heard for a while, a sound that melts inside my ears as if it were a stick of butter, or sun-weathered chocolate. It has its origins within the vocal cords of our youngest housemate, who turns twenty-three within the next two weeks. She was gone for the last two, taking a summer break with her family to get her mind off of things and gain a fresher perspective. I hope she will enjoy the time she still has with her parents, and other family members...if I had even the faintest notion that I would have lost--or become estranged from, sometimes by fate, other times by choice--many people who were close to me at such a young age, I would have savored each moment and been more respectful, taking the chances I was scared to take back then, the chances I have no choice but to take now since I basically have nothing left to lose. If I can get through losing my parents, there is nothing else awaiting me in this life that will be nearly as challenging, or hit me harder. It's been a tough road, but by His grace, and with the support of some good people, I will overcome. Remembering all that has happened over these last nine months, I have learned a little bit about what it means to take the bitter with the sweet, and just take each day as it comes. It took about two or three months for the reality of the loss to set in. It doesn't leave you. There isn't a day that goes by where I don't miss my parents. With the world being the way it is, it sometimes feels like less of a dream and more like a nightmare I can't wake up from. But I'll make a heaven out of this hell until I'm called home. If my understanding is correct, this same housemate will be heading out on a cruise not long from now, and will probably be gone for another two weeks. Another opportunity for spiritual restoration, or at the very least a sweet distraction from a lifestyle to which I am accustomed, but to others may be perceived as monotonous. A neighbor has had this housemate on her mind ever since she left. Remembering a day where I sat in the van, and saw her gently stroke her fingers through his hair, I think of how much that would have aroused me. There are certain things that are exceptionally stimulating to me. Fortunately for him, he's got a bit more hair for her to work with. I cannot say I blame him for having this girl on his mind the whole time, but I do lament that his fixation ate into his brain like a parasite. Having won and lost with women in the past, I realize that love is a thing that can't be rushed or forced. Now, all of a sudden, I find myself laughing, giggling, and grunting. Another housemate is having a grand old time watching videos on YouTube. Not only has he memorized the password that gets him into his laptop, he has figured out how to turn the computer on and enter it all by himself. He probably watched his parents, or a CNA, do it enough times that he learned via example. From what I understand, his parents were informed of their son's tendency to go into fits of craziness while watching videos; apparently they were so impressed by his proficiency with the laptop that they did not want to 'ixnay' his indulgence in this interest. So his laptop access was restored, but has been regulated since then. He lets out a shriek of sheer delight. I feel such a kinship with him; yesterday, I held his hand for safety reasons as we walked to the van together, and kept an eye on him to make sure he didn't slip and fall. He is like the little brother I never had; though he is two or three years older than I am, he still has a gentle, childlike spirit. His mind is simple, yet complex in subtle ways, but most of all his heart is full of love. He and his sister are truly great people. I can only imagine what they'd be doing now, if not for being tethered by their limitations. A brief intermission has led me back to my desk, in which time I was inspired to look up the song "Paper Roses" on DuckDuckGo. I overheard our CNA singing it; she observed my youth--well, I suppose I'm young in comparison, but I don't feel as young as before--and noted that I would not be familiar with that song. I know a few oldies, but admittedly that one had managed to elude my consciousness. It is a beautiful song, with Marie Osmond's version apparently being the best known rendition, though it had been originally performed by Anita Bryant over a decade earlier--thirteen years to be precise. The brother and sister emote in tandem; he is expressing intermittent bursts of grunts and laughter, while she is gentler, much more ladylike. She is an adorable person, and I care about her very much. Her heart is truly innocent. Being with them, I feel like God has given me a chance to know what it feels like to have a brother and sister. I would like to cherish the time I spend with them, knowing that someday we will be apart. I hear some shouting in the background, and quietly--enough so that I know for a fact they would not hear me--ask if anything is wrong, if there is something I can do to help. There are 13 minutes to go before the clock strikes 7:00am. Twelve now, as I just spent a brief moment responding to an email. Ten now, as I just spent a couple of minutes reading a reply to a post on Quora, and replying to another email. They're coming fast and furious today, maybe because they're in 'TGIF' mode and wanting to get things out of the way so they can enjoy the weekend without a sense of guilt or stress. Perhaps this is another problem I have: my tendency to get distracted. I am quite stunned at how distractable I am. Is my attention span fading that much? Is it possible that I've had attention deficit disorder my whole life, while somehow never being officially diagnosed with such a condition? Has it seeped into my writing? I've come too far to start from scratch. My writing must be a reflection of myself. If I am distracted, let the writing show it. If I am focused, let it be known and shown. Coming to the dining room table, I am pleasantly surprised to see our housemate once more. Suddenly, I feel like a jerk for thinking the thoughts that came to my mind earlier. She has a sense of innocence too. I make myself vulnerable, but I feel I was destined to be the one others lean on, a man in whom others seek comfort. I was never meant to be the one receiving the comfort, though a part of me still hopes for it every so often. We can be tough, or be the ones who seek relief in toughness of others. A world like this will force you to get tough, whether you want to go through that or not. I was reminded of what it means to be resilient, once again in a strange way, when I did a CPU vs CPU game in NHL 2002 on the Game Boy Advance, pitting the Tampa Bay Lightning (ranked 26th in 'even strength') against the New York Rangers, who were ranked 2nd and had home ice advantage. Late in the third period the Rangers led 3-1, only for the Lightning to score two goals and tie the game at 3-3, winning on a huge one-timer from Brad Richards midway through the overtime period. There have been similar, and in fact bigger, comebacks in real life...but it was yet another reminder of what can happen if you just keep trying. NHL 2002, Madden NFL 2003, and the OG International Superstar Soccer have become my favorite GBA sports games lately. 16-bit goodness sent to a powerhouse of 32-bit tech.