Kindly, Shut the *** Up
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Dad was still going on and on about the huge fish he caught when we went out on the boat earlier. I quickly made my way upstairs to my room away from them. Shutting the door as quietly as possible, I let out a sigh of relief as i collapse onto my bed, the smell of chocolate engulfing me in a warm reminder. Man, what a day. My face contorting up in disgust, why is this only hard for me? I mean she only died a week ago; this should still be affecting them. I mean hello! This was their daughter,my only sister, so why do they act like everything is perfect in the world? It doesn't make any sense. I close my eyes and try to relax. It's like a ghost is here and everywhere i go it just doesn't feel right. I hate it. Why not somebody else?! Stupid leukemia. I reach over onto my dresser and grab my iPod. I shove the headphones in my ears to drown out the world and try to numb the aching hole that lies in my heart now. I try to remember the good times, when everything seemed okay. I miss you Brianna, I know the letter you wrote me before you died by heart, word for word. I'd give anything to just see you once more. I sit up and look across the room and, with tears hiding behind my eyes, I slowly move to go pick up the last present she gave me for my birthday, a box of my favorite chocolate. I place it back and slow pad my way into my bathroom to take the pills. Stupid depression, ugh the only person to ever help was Brianna and she was stolen away from me. She was only 10 years old. How is that fair? I hate you, God. I pull up my sleeve and run my fingers over my cut up and newly tattooed arm.
The words "Have Faith In Me," still shone in pitch black on my pale white skin. The deep cut marks peeking out under the tattoo and covering my entire arm. I make a mental note not to forget my tattoo appointment to get Brianna's name tattooed on my hip next week.
I can remember it all as if it were yesterday. I close my eyes and replay it in my mind then the first tear starts to fall. "Alexander! Mom is going to kill you if she finds out, bad boy!" A smile creeping up on her face as she hits my shoulder. I laugh, "but you like it, right?"
"Love it." I smile and she shakes her head at me. "Alex one of these days I am going to teach you how to be a good boy and actually listen to mommy."
"Bri, I vow that when that day comes I will be 9,875 years old and mentally impaired." I pick her up and hoist her over my shoulder and spin her. Her laugh echo's throughout the entire house and warms my heart.
Running a hand through my jet black hair I sigh realizing again, for the hundredth time that something like that will never happen again. Never will I even be able to hear her high pitched, small laugh and see the way her nose crinkled up when she laughed. Days like those made my depression seem like a distant dream. Now it's always there, hovering over me.
I stay up in my room until mom is bellowing up the stairs letting me know that dinner is ready. I slowly get up grazing my fingers over my wrist hiding under the cloth of my shirt for a silent reminder to stay strong. To never give into pain again. I slowly work my way to my seat around the dinner table. I look around furiously but to no avail, I can't find Brianna's chair. "Morons," I mutter under my breath and my hands ball up into fists under the table. "Now funny, don't forget you have therapy tomorrow and that we are only doing this once a week from now on since you seem to be doing so much better lately!" My mother chirped as she flashed me a bright smile. Better? Better?! My sister just died and you think I'm happier and doing better?! Are you insane? Are you ill? You've got to be fucking kidding me, no I'm not better! Not at all! I clutch my dinner knife tightly and mutter, "fine" my eyes not leaving my plate.
The next day is exactly the same; we go out on the boat and I spend the day sitting down listening to music, picking at the strings from the holes at the knees of my skinny jeans. Mom and Dad leave me alone, as always. Hah, they never pay attention to me but who cares? I love it. I love being able to do whatever I want, whenever I want, without any consequences because they just dont know about it and generally dont give a shit. The only thing that I care about right now is the fact that I have to explain all about Brianna to my therapist; not fair. But I do have to try and get over it all somehow. But to have to explain everything about her to someone? How on earth will that help? Screw parents.
We spend the whole day out on the boat with Dad fishing, Mom tanning and me. I'm doing what I normally do, which is listening to music lying down on the side of the boat. Just as I'm about to get comfortable and really relax for the first time all day, Dad is revving up the engine signaling me that were going home back to the dock. Once were stopped at the dock I get out, walk into the house up towards my room.
Mom calls up the stairs, "Alex honey, dont forget to take your pills!" I slam the door and collapse onto my bed and pull out the pill bottle slowly. "Take 1 a day at noon for hallucinations, chronic depression and anxiety. May eat on a full stomach to reduce cramps." I fling the bottle at the wall across the room in a huff. "I am not having fucking hallucinations. I've been off the stupid things for two weeks now and NOTHING!" I breathe out as if someone can hear me. I close my eyes and try to relax.
"Alex honey, come look at the finished room!" I peel open one eye and just look at her standing in front of my bed. You're kidding me. You can't be serious, You're the one having hallucinations to even think we have enough room to have a new completed room unless.... She leaves me be and lets me sleep for a while.
I slowly remove myself from my bed when I wake up and walk to the hallway. I mess up my hair and try to rub away the grogginess from my eyes. I look across the way and slowly walk towards Brianna's room. I feel my throat closing up as I walk closer and closer. I close my eyes and try to relax. Wrenching open the door, I peel open my eyes and I can't believe it. They've turned her room into an office! What the hell?! I hate them! I fucking hate them! I slam the door shut and storm down the stairs to see Mom and Dad happily talking. I grab handfuls of my hair and start pulling as I scream out, "I hate you guys!"
My mom is the first to look up at me with her face clouded with hurt and confusion. "Hunny, calm down, why do you hate us?"
"You're acting like she never existed! My own blood, my sister Brianna! Your god damn daughter! You turned her room into an office a fucking week after she dies?! How could you do that?"
My dad just sighs and says, "go take your pills son." I'm not going to let you walk all over me this time. This time I'm getting an answer. My mom shakes her head and steps closer to me, placing her soft hand on my shoulder exclaiming, "We've never had a daughter Alex, you are an only child. Brianna does not exist. Don't make her up in your mind; you always do this. Decide to stop taking your medication and dream her up Alex but you need to stop with these delusions."
The words "Have Faith In Me," still shone in pitch black on my pale white skin. The deep cut marks peeking out under the tattoo and covering my entire arm. I make a mental note not to forget my tattoo appointment to get Brianna's name tattooed on my hip next week.
I can remember it all as if it were yesterday. I close my eyes and replay it in my mind then the first tear starts to fall. "Alexander! Mom is going to kill you if she finds out, bad boy!" A smile creeping up on her face as she hits my shoulder. I laugh, "but you like it, right?"
"Love it." I smile and she shakes her head at me. "Alex one of these days I am going to teach you how to be a good boy and actually listen to mommy."
"Bri, I vow that when that day comes I will be 9,875 years old and mentally impaired." I pick her up and hoist her over my shoulder and spin her. Her laugh echo's throughout the entire house and warms my heart.
Running a hand through my jet black hair I sigh realizing again, for the hundredth time that something like that will never happen again. Never will I even be able to hear her high pitched, small laugh and see the way her nose crinkled up when she laughed. Days like those made my depression seem like a distant dream. Now it's always there, hovering over me.
I stay up in my room until mom is bellowing up the stairs letting me know that dinner is ready. I slowly get up grazing my fingers over my wrist hiding under the cloth of my shirt for a silent reminder to stay strong. To never give into pain again. I slowly work my way to my seat around the dinner table. I look around furiously but to no avail, I can't find Brianna's chair. "Morons," I mutter under my breath and my hands ball up into fists under the table. "Now funny, don't forget you have therapy tomorrow and that we are only doing this once a week from now on since you seem to be doing so much better lately!" My mother chirped as she flashed me a bright smile. Better? Better?! My sister just died and you think I'm happier and doing better?! Are you insane? Are you ill? You've got to be fucking kidding me, no I'm not better! Not at all! I clutch my dinner knife tightly and mutter, "fine" my eyes not leaving my plate.
The next day is exactly the same; we go out on the boat and I spend the day sitting down listening to music, picking at the strings from the holes at the knees of my skinny jeans. Mom and Dad leave me alone, as always. Hah, they never pay attention to me but who cares? I love it. I love being able to do whatever I want, whenever I want, without any consequences because they just dont know about it and generally dont give a shit. The only thing that I care about right now is the fact that I have to explain all about Brianna to my therapist; not fair. But I do have to try and get over it all somehow. But to have to explain everything about her to someone? How on earth will that help? Screw parents.
We spend the whole day out on the boat with Dad fishing, Mom tanning and me. I'm doing what I normally do, which is listening to music lying down on the side of the boat. Just as I'm about to get comfortable and really relax for the first time all day, Dad is revving up the engine signaling me that were going home back to the dock. Once were stopped at the dock I get out, walk into the house up towards my room.
Mom calls up the stairs, "Alex honey, dont forget to take your pills!" I slam the door and collapse onto my bed and pull out the pill bottle slowly. "Take 1 a day at noon for hallucinations, chronic depression and anxiety. May eat on a full stomach to reduce cramps." I fling the bottle at the wall across the room in a huff. "I am not having fucking hallucinations. I've been off the stupid things for two weeks now and NOTHING!" I breathe out as if someone can hear me. I close my eyes and try to relax.
"Alex honey, come look at the finished room!" I peel open one eye and just look at her standing in front of my bed. You're kidding me. You can't be serious, You're the one having hallucinations to even think we have enough room to have a new completed room unless.... She leaves me be and lets me sleep for a while.
I slowly remove myself from my bed when I wake up and walk to the hallway. I mess up my hair and try to rub away the grogginess from my eyes. I look across the way and slowly walk towards Brianna's room. I feel my throat closing up as I walk closer and closer. I close my eyes and try to relax. Wrenching open the door, I peel open my eyes and I can't believe it. They've turned her room into an office! What the hell?! I hate them! I fucking hate them! I slam the door shut and storm down the stairs to see Mom and Dad happily talking. I grab handfuls of my hair and start pulling as I scream out, "I hate you guys!"
My mom is the first to look up at me with her face clouded with hurt and confusion. "Hunny, calm down, why do you hate us?"
"You're acting like she never existed! My own blood, my sister Brianna! Your god damn daughter! You turned her room into an office a fucking week after she dies?! How could you do that?"
My dad just sighs and says, "go take your pills son." I'm not going to let you walk all over me this time. This time I'm getting an answer. My mom shakes her head and steps closer to me, placing her soft hand on my shoulder exclaiming, "We've never had a daughter Alex, you are an only child. Brianna does not exist. Don't make her up in your mind; you always do this. Decide to stop taking your medication and dream her up Alex but you need to stop with these delusions."