The Tragic Story of My Brother's Drug Addiction
My brother is a druggie; and it's sad because he's been arrested so many times I can't even cry anymore - it's just another part of the day. One time he came home so high he asked me if it was twelve AM or PM.
My dad drove him to the hospital after arguing, of course, and I didn't go to school just so I could visit him the next day. It was hard to see him, in pain, being questioned when he obviously didn't have answers. All I heard was doctors, strangers to me and my brother, mumbling things like 'personality disorder'. People who don't know him ... I know him.
I know he doesn't have disorders. I know what he is - stupid. That's all. No fancy words for it, just stupid. He downed CCC for an event he was so 'mad' about ... it was so important that he didn't even remember the next day. He doesn't think far enough into the future to realize that CCC can hurt you. That weed can kill you. That a smoke a day can ruin your oh so precious voice.
He was so good. He was too good. He never cried - or so I've been told. And he never lied - as far as mother knows ... I remember watching wrestling with him and he'd practice the moves on me and we'd laugh. And DBZ with him was no snorefest either ... since 11/1/95 when I was born ... or taken home rather ... He's loved me. Up until he turned 15, that is.
He's gone the whole nine yards - jail, in-patient, out-patient, rehab, he just doesn't want to stop. And he won't. Ever. I don't think he's ever been happy and I don't think he will be. All he loves is needles breaking the skin, all he desires in the deep inhalation of soothing toxins, and all he cares about is his actions right now. Never the consequences of them. Never.
Was it worth it? Was the stolen shirt worth it? Were the sold drugs worth it? Was the unnatural high that kept you floating when all you needed was for me to keep you grounded fucking worth it? That's all I want to know. Was all those times when I woke up to screaming and sirens and fell asleep to tears with a look in my eyes that pour my soul out to all who see it worth it?
I really hope it was, 'cause if it wasn't then my tears were a waste. Then my existence was a failed attempt to life - I was a mistake to my birth parents, my legal guardians, and you. My life. My friend. My brother. You! My brother. And I've honestly given up and I've burst into tears in the middle of class because of things you've done months ago.
Every drug assembly we have in school I have to 'use the restroom' 'cause I'm too embarrassed to let my peers see me crying over you again! And I'm sick. You were a black sharpie with a pink cap and no one knew until they tried it out and it ruined the whole picture.
You came home just today smelling of pot and mom quickly dismissed it and she won't believe me. You lie and steal money from her - birth or adoptive she is is still your MOTHER! You took from ME! A 12-year old girl and you stole money and prescription drugs from ME. And I honestly hate thinking, because despite the starting point all my thought undoubtedly lead to one thing sooner or later - you.
So This is my message of farewell, I give up on you. I quit. You aren't my brother just like they aren't my parents and those people aren't my friends. They say you can't choose your family, but you can. My family chose me. Picked me out of the litter. Took in the runt and all they did was complain and you were the only one who didn't.
It's almost funny how that worked. We aren't a family, families love each other. All you love is drugs, all mother loves is sleep, and all father loves is baseball. And all I love is you. You! You fucking faggot, all I love is you! So tell me. Was CCC worth rehab? Was the shirt worth jail? Were the lies worth court? And was it all worth my unease? Was it worth it Matthew? Was it worth it?