|untitled (standard:other, 1036 words)|
|Author: Jenkis||Added: Apr 20 2001||Views/Reads: 1836/1||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|random thoughts on life and death. feedback would be nice.|
so itís somewhere between very late and very early and iím sitting here in front of this computer screen, words pouring forth from my fingertips and thoughts clouding up my head. my older brother alex decided to shoot himself last night without leaving a note and all i can think of is why in the hell would he do it on a monday night. or maybe that makes sense. the weird thing is, iím not really thinking about alex but of a boy i knew not so long ago named neil. hardly a boy, actually, i met neil when i was 14 and he was 24 at a party and fell instantly in love. the first thing he said after fucking my brains out in the basement of this party was ďyouíre mine, little girl.Ē and i didnít argue. I was his forever. still am, actually, although iíd like to deny it at times. it was love since the very start although i never really admitted it. to anyone. always have been too proud and too scared (something i wonít openly admit, either) about showing any type of feeling. his nazi past didnít really make a difference to me because heíd left it all behind and when i met him heíd been out of that scene for nearly 4 years.aAnd so started the whirlwind ďpunk rawkĒ (as alex used to say) romance between neil and i. we were inseparable, he and i, since the beginning. and then the unthinkable happened. neil was killed on the 15th of may last year. i remember it was kinda chilly that night which isnít often the case. he was killed by one of his old ďfriendsĒ for leaving the brotherhood and dating outside his race (iím irish-colombian). he was killed by the knife the other guy forced into his throat before running away and i was left with him bleeding all over my black jeans and trying to stop his blood with my hands. thinking about it still makes me wake up shivering in the middle of the night. i swear everytime i look at my hands i can see his blood in them. i think iíll see it forever. he died with his head on my lap and his hands intertwined with mine. I donít remember if he said anything. it sounds horrible but i really canít. all i remember is that expression in his eyes right before he died.iIt was disappointment. to put it lightly, anyway. i think i only cried openly once. barely even spoke for a week after that. i havenít spoken since i found out about alex. shit. iím starting to see a pattern. iím thinking of my brother now. heís been my best friend since i was old enough to talk. he was 24. his life were his black leather jacket and his guitar who he liked to call ďchristine.Ē my mom wonít bury him with neither which in some way makes him stripped of his dignity. in my eyes, at least. which i think is unfair. but mom never really listened to me, anyway. iím thinking of the first time i rode with him and his friends (which were my friends) on his beat up old black van full of bumper stickers like ďdonít like my driving? Call 1-800-EAT-SHITĒ and whose color we used to joke about. legend had it that alexís van wasnít really black but grey and that weíd find it out the moment we washed it. iím thinking about why in the hell he would do something like this to me. after all the promises and all the late night talks and all the hugs and all the secrets and fights and the music and the parties. iím thinking of what he was feelings in those last moments just like i always wondered what neil felt. maybe they were both disappointed in the end. maybe one more than the other and with more reason. and the stupid question still gnaws at my head. why on a monday night, for crying outloud? have this horrible feeling iím not making any sense and that somehow not crying for him makes me a bad person. but, i canít help it. the tears just wonít come. i donít know exactly why iím writing this down, just that i felt compelled to do it. it wasnít to leave a stupid little corny message that is simply a cliche like ďlife is short, enjoy itĒ (god, alex would have a nosebleed!) because i think things like that are simply obvious. I feel that perhaps this piece would make me put my head back together. so far it isnít working very much. but, oh well, such is life. the truth is, iím 17 years old and seeing what could have been the only person iíve ever loved and my brother die has not made me a different person. colder? yes. stronger? maybe. but not different. perhaps this was my last unconscious cry for sympathy or whatever, but i think iím simply writing all of this down because this may well be the last time i really feel anything. sad, isnít it? but such is life. makes me think of this sandman poster i have in my room that says ďhow would you feel about life if death was your older sister?Ē but why i cannot really tell you. is this the start of a journal i will start writing in every night to not forget the small things that happen in life? i highly doubt it. i like to remember things my way. not the way they exactly happened. ďfar away is where we all want to go but thatís exactly where i am and what no one bothers to know.Ē a guy i used to know wrote that once and i think it describes my state of mind right now best. maybe iím writing this down to simply make sure that it happened. my name is kathryn mayfair and iím 17 years old. i was here. let tat be perhaps the last sane thought that goes through this stubborn head of mine. i was here. but i think the question always was, is anybody out there? 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