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untitled (standard:other, 1036 words)
Author: JenkisAdded: Apr 20 2001Views/Reads: 3215/1Story 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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