so this time, clear our minds
Its been years since that day. The one day that I never should have known that changed my life forever. And to this date I wish that I could go unknowing. It was my sixteenth birthday. My older brither, Justin and I were at home from school and our parents were still at work. My Mom an RN and my Father, one of the leading lawyers of Los Angeles.
Sitting in the living room, oblivious to what was about to happen. Watching some random television show and zoning out. Then out of nowhere a loud crack sounded throughout the house. The sound echoed over and over again in my mind. I took off swiftly through the house, moving upstairs and throwing open my brother's bedroom door to see the most unspeakable sight ever. There he layed, gun in hand, a bloody mess. Body lifeless as mine went numb.
The scene still haunts me to this very day. Throughout all of the shrinks that my parents took me to and therapy that I was put through, I still cannot shake the pain or the feeling. Nor will I ever. How could I simply obliterate, discount, or transgress. And do I want to? The way I remember Justin, he was so full of life and optimism. No one really knew what negativeness hid beyond the surface.
Perhaps it was the hindering feeling of our parents fighting with one another all the time. Bellowing at each other night in and night out. It makes me ache to think that I could have done something to prevent his death. Maybe if I payed more attention? Maybe if I went up to see if he was okay? And now until the day that I die, I will take this atroscious feeling to the grave, always wondering, pondering, and thinking, maybe I could have stopped him.
I do not cover nor hide these emotions. Nor do I board them up away from the light. Or lock them in a box only to toss upon a dusty shelf. The lyrics from the song Underground only unveil a brief part of my feelings. A picture sketched in the mind can last over a thousand tears. The tears that I have shed won't bring anything back. And with that in mind a heavy heart sits here in the rafters of this tormented soul. This side of myself not visual to very many but to a few.
Last evening was enjoyable. I convinced Julia to come down to Los Angeles. I don't know how, but I did. I'm glad that I did this. She is a beautiful creature. We got smashed together and spent the night laughing ourselves silly. It was great. Hopefully tonight will be even more eventful. I'm ending this entry for now. More of an update later. I need to get some food in my stomach and call my band members to let them know I am still alive.
Sitting in the living room, oblivious to what was about to happen. Watching some random television show and zoning out. Then out of nowhere a loud crack sounded throughout the house. The sound echoed over and over again in my mind. I took off swiftly through the house, moving upstairs and throwing open my brother's bedroom door to see the most unspeakable sight ever. There he layed, gun in hand, a bloody mess. Body lifeless as mine went numb.
The scene still haunts me to this very day. Throughout all of the shrinks that my parents took me to and therapy that I was put through, I still cannot shake the pain or the feeling. Nor will I ever. How could I simply obliterate, discount, or transgress. And do I want to? The way I remember Justin, he was so full of life and optimism. No one really knew what negativeness hid beyond the surface.
Perhaps it was the hindering feeling of our parents fighting with one another all the time. Bellowing at each other night in and night out. It makes me ache to think that I could have done something to prevent his death. Maybe if I payed more attention? Maybe if I went up to see if he was okay? And now until the day that I die, I will take this atroscious feeling to the grave, always wondering, pondering, and thinking, maybe I could have stopped him.
I do not cover nor hide these emotions. Nor do I board them up away from the light. Or lock them in a box only to toss upon a dusty shelf. The lyrics from the song Underground only unveil a brief part of my feelings. A picture sketched in the mind can last over a thousand tears. The tears that I have shed won't bring anything back. And with that in mind a heavy heart sits here in the rafters of this tormented soul. This side of myself not visual to very many but to a few.
Last evening was enjoyable. I convinced Julia to come down to Los Angeles. I don't know how, but I did. I'm glad that I did this. She is a beautiful creature. We got smashed together and spent the night laughing ourselves silly. It was great. Hopefully tonight will be even more eventful. I'm ending this entry for now. More of an update later. I need to get some food in my stomach and call my band members to let them know I am still alive.