I can't help it. (For the Brave and Stupid)
Dear Scott,
I miss you like crazy. I always get this way when I'm a alone and a little drunk. Can't seem to help myself. A bit of escape into self-destruction. I miss you man. I miss you like crazy. And the worst part is, the memory I've created of you, probably isn't what you would have been like, if you were still around. But whatever you might have been like nigh on 12 years since your death, you are my brother and that's more important than anything I have or am or want. And I just wish that I would give to my sisters and parents the same love and thought that I seem to give a memory. They are alive and I miss them and love them and wish them the best that this world has to offer, but for some reason it is you being gone that I just can't seem to get past. Most days it's not so bad. I mean life goes on, right? You go with it or get left behind, no worries. Just keep rockin' the casbah as I have a tendency to say. But I don't know what the fuck I am doing. Period. I had a breakdown the day after new years. Things just got to me. It was actually just weird, because I was trying my hardest to just calm down, but I couldn't. I don't think its the rest of the world. I think it's just inside me. I am not sure of me, whatever that is. I want to be good at something. I want to make my life worth the labor it took to bring me into the world. In other words I wanna make momma proud. Not really hard to do. I guess it's really me that I want to be proud. Just can't seem to pull that one off. That bar has been set fantastically high. Inhumanly high. And I can't reach it to cross over or even lower it and I am not quite sure how I got it up there. Yeah mostly this is me ingesting a depressive, but when was meditating on one's life a bad thing? Harping on it sure doesn't help, by any means, but here I am again. Seeking answers that will never present themselves here. Comfort perhaps... but not answers. I want to be good at something, but it's the struggle to anywhere that makes us human and it's really hard to have the energy to keep fight in my body. My chemicals weren't made like everyone elses and they fluctuate a little too violently. Grant me peace of mind brother, if only in my sleep. To wake up the next day and move like this letter never needed writing. Funny thing is I loathe and bask in these moments of narcissistic self-awareness/destruction. Is that bad? Hoping (but not hoping) the rest of the world ignores this public display weakness. I am human after all. Your Brother...