I’m laying in my mother’s bed in my childhood home thinking about how we got here.
My brother left for boot camp on Monday and I can’t help but to feel fucking sad. I wish I could be eloquent and create beautiful metaphors about my sadness but I can’t. I’m fucking tired and sad feeling lost in a world that no one understands me.
I wasn’t always close to my brother. Growing up, we were notorious for beating the shit out of each other but at the same time, we were all we had.
It really changed when I moved back into Murrieta from San Francisco. I was in my peak of alcoholism and I had no one. Sure I had my mom but it’s hard talking to your parents about how fucked up you are. You never want your parents to know how bad you are fucking up. Also I’m distant as hell. I didn’t say what was on my mind but I didn’t have to. My brother saw me cry way too many times. He never asked me what was wrong, he didn’t have to. He was just always there.
Eventually I did start talking to him and opened up and I could honestly call him my best friend. He drives me insane but everyone drives me insane.
I’m so scared to lose my best friend. I just know he isn’t going to be the same person and maybe that will be a good. I don’t know but I love my brother the way he is. I just don’t want him to lose his carefree goofy ways. His way of understanding the world. I just don’t want to lose him as he is.
Maybe I’m being dramatic as fuck because I do have a tendency of doing that but this shit hurts so bad. I am proud of him but I just wished he did something else, tried to do something else. Ultimately though people life’s decisions are never your own. I did get a phone call from my brother and he sounded terrified. The call was only ten seconds.
I just can’t wait until three months are up.