I’m so fucking tired.
I lived my brothers suicide from my point of view.
And now I’m living it from his.
I am living in memories. Missed opportunities. My loss is magnified, if that is even possible.
I am now a sudden death that has taken a decade.
So many things, every day. Everyday I want to share, discuss with you all that has come since you left, some small and inane, “Perfume” our favorite book got made into a movie. Some bigger, of significance maybe; karma might just have found our father. What happened to us was not OK. And, hey J, I’m not OK, I’m not doing so well, can you help me? Can you help me?
I need your help.
All I have to do, all I can do, is finish this for you.
I love you little brother, see you on the other side, one day.
One day, one letter, one message was all it would have taken.
I am so very, very sorry little brother, I only ever had one job. “S take care of your brother”.
And I didn’t. I didn’t take care of you. I did’t take care of you.
I didn’t take care of you.