bluefrenchorn

There was no trial questioning your guilt, just your character. And as it turned out, u had enough to be home in 6 years. But what the hell are those 6 years going to get you. What will you lose. There are times when it’s easier for me to imagine a possible meaningful future. I told my brother that he’d always have a room in my home but looking at his hands makes me think he’s gone. A 21 year old playing handball in his spare time, instead of drinking, hanging out with friends or doing homework. He’s not like us anymore. Yet in the picture, the first picture we have together in the longest time, he looks just like the brother I grew up with.

Ive been thinking a lot about what you said: ‘yeah, I used to have it so good’

I mentioned that u used to drink only bottled water, and not only that, but like all of us had several bottles in your room.

This is hard. I dont know how we’re all going to do this.

I’m engaging in private events, and apparently I must find them reinforcing in order to keep talking myself, but this stuff isnt reinforcing. It’s terrifying. I ‘picture’ ‘visualize’ engage in ‘seeing’ behaviors,’ I ‘see’ the words you wrote: ‘and then everything will be back to normal’ how do u believe that? Your future terrifies me. The people u hurt are bad people. We’re good people.

Wrong-way driver. Drunk. Heartless kid. Murderer.

How do you live with these?

Why the fuck did you get in that car? How often does that thought rush through your head?

I don’t know how you do it. You wrote that u thought about mom the entire time you made her card. I can’t imagine what it is you have to think about. I dont know how you get through a day. I don’t know how you do it. I’m so proud of you and can’t wait until the day when that’s all we have to think about.

I want to know how they’re doing but I don’t want to ask anyone, I don’t want to look it up. I think not knowing, and hoping, possibly - not thinking too much about it- is my safety. What’s his?

What the hell were you thinking. When you did it the first time. When you emptied your room of the alcohol. The room that was somehow full of bottles yet didn’t have any closet doors or room under the bed. What were you hiding from us. And now you’re completely exposed. Your every waking, and sleeping, moment is under observation. You’ve lost all rights. You’ve even lost the right for your sister to go snooping through your room. You know I did it. You left notes for me as I snooped. But I couldnt find this. I couldn’t find this. This hell that has become our lives. This fucking distress that never ever ever ever goes away. This hell that pops into consciousness with every sight of oncoming traffic, of a police car, of a ‘report drunk drivers call 911’ sign. Merry fucking Christmas! With every fucking tall kid, or blonde kid, or kid dressed in a hoodie, or in bright colors, or a punk ass kid walking in the middle of the street in costa Mesa at 1 in the morning. Go the fuck home! Love your mother and don’t kill her with your fucking stupid acts of utter stupidity. Go the fuck home. Dont spend your 20th birthdAy at tao and dont let your dad who writes ‘be safe daughter’ on your fb bday post of ‘I’m gonna get dudddddddd tonight!’ also see your pictures of moments that you can’t even remember. Dont do it.

How the fuck did I miss this Why the fuck didn’t I think to suggest that you should stop. I said to you, ’ I know youre not stupid enough to do it again.’ how fucking stupid could I be. Ive been there. Ive been dragged and gone and completely unable to control myself, yet I know you’re not stupid enough to do it again

What the fuck had happened. What the fuck has happened. My fucking 21 year old brother. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck

Fuck you and your value of a dollar. Because that was never enough for you. Fuxk me for giving a shit and always wanting to protect you and Support you and loving you fucking unconditionally. It HURTS to love you unconditionally because sometimes I Want to Talk to you without an automated voice reminding me where you are

And where are you. I can picture it. It’s my own creation. Your beds on the left, youre on the bottom. Finally. I picture a small square window with 2 bars only I know your window is tall skinny rectangle with no bars. You judge your spending by the price of a soup What the hell is this soup? I picture a small red container the size of a jello Pudding cup. Four of them make up a dollar fuxk you for teaching me the value of a damn cup of soup. Fuxk you for dragging me through this hell. I’m sorry. Youre my little brother and I wNt so Desperately for none of this to continue going on. Wake up. Wake up. Be on our couch. Be in our kitchen. Be more than in my dreams. Be at my wedding. Be at my graduation. Be here. Be here.

Jdjdj