My Brother, the Jerk

Okay, so I was going to say something about my brother here, but then I realized that you guys don't even know him, so here's a rundown o how things went:

My brother is 5 years older than me. He was a skater, and in my middle school years, he was my best friend. He was my muse, my confidant, my life, practically. He influenced me in the biggest way - he introduced me to Linkin Park, Sublime, and Hellboy. My gosh, if he knew just how much he influenced me, it'd inflate his oversized ego. I could come to him for anything. I didn't judge him when he got into drugs, or when he got arrested.
Then he left. he had the guts to LEAVE in the MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT, so NO ONE would notice. He won't talk to us anymore, he won't answer his effin' phone, NOTHING.

"When you go, will you have the guts to say / I don't love you like I loved you yesterday."
- My Chemical Romance, I Don't Love You

Exactly. he's a big jerk, but I can't help but live him. I have a picture of him on my desk, and it STARES at me, like I'm doing something wrong.
The pain, it aches so bad sometimes . . . I cry at night, because of what he did. I gave him all that I had, and he LEAVES. Goshnum, am I that pathetic?

So yeah, that's what I wanted to say about my brother. *sarcasm* With all people who read this, I shouldn't have to worry about this getting out.
Twon, if you're reading this . . . I wish I could stay mad at you. I wish you knew my pain. I wish you had to expirience all the nights I had, worrying about you, the nightmares of cops coming to my door and telling me that you died, or OD'd. I wish you had that sudden realization that almost made your heart stop, because you realized that you wanted the pain to stop, no matter what you had to do . . . even die.

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On a lighter note, I'm, like, halfway done with my awesome bag. It's tapestry crochet, and it's the Jolly Roger - y'know, the skull and crossbones, and such. Dang, i wish I had a camera so you guys could see it . . .
I know, I must be some heartless feind to talk about suicide one moment and talk about crochet the next, but it's OVER. It happened, like, 2 months ago. I never told anyone about it, but that's cause it's ancient history.


Here's where I sign off, readers/random people. Keep on truckin', start a revolution, release your inner pyro, do a barrel roll, wh'ever boats your float.