What Is Happening?!
"WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED?!"
All the words in the world and that was the first thing outta my mouth.
It was the only thing I could think of after sprinting through my house going "Oh my god!" I swear, it's amazing how nothing works when you're frantic. I could not get my door to work for nothing. Suddenly instead of 4 locks, there were a thousand.
This morning I was under the impression that I was about to do a photoshoot for Sigrid. I woke up, threw some sausages in the oven then opened my coffee before sitting down.
Mind you, it's dark as shit at 6:34 in the morning.
Have I ever mentioned that I have a brother in prison? It's amazing the little things I realize I hardly ever mention about myself. This place knows I'm adopted, but it doesn't know much about my siblings outside of a mention of Gabriel, Leisha and Danielle here or there over the years.
I'll hafta go back over my entries, but I'm pretty sure I just don't mention my siblings alot. I keep this place as the place I vent, grow, celebrate and sometimes… Grieve.
Ya know, there's this part in the second part of Agents Of Chaos after something happens where I open a discussion on grief. We all grieve differently. Some people talk. Some people cry. Some people drink. Me? I write. I hate all that crying and attention that comes with grief cuz honestly, I don't know what to say. It's amazing that a writer doesn't know what to say, but sometimes when I speak, it comes off incorrectly. I'm more eloquent in print, I assure you.
When I was waaaaaaaaay younger than the world seems to think I am now, my Aunt Carroll gave birth to my youngest brother. (He was a secret baby, kinda like Mo was) None of us wanted a sibling like, at all. I always remember the initial reaction. I also remember a little while after he was brought home, Aunt Carroll pulled a prank on us, convincing us he'd passed away in his sleep… I remember the reaction to that. We all freaked out, then we just laughed and laughed. (Humor in our house sometimes came from a very dark place. For me, it still does.)
It wouldn't be a prank this time. *points* See that? I woke up to that.
^Then I opened that
I don't have a lot of stories about my youngest brother as he grew older. My stories come from when people thought I was a teen mom because I was forever carting around this baby and this baby refused to stop calling me "Mommy". I don't think he truly believed he wasn't mine until I moved out honestly. He went everywhere with me. Since I was so good at it, eventually Aunt Carroll started paying me for it. (That's how I made my money for senior year. There's another side to this story, but this entry is painful enough without 50 Shades of Fuckery starring my uterus donor) Honestly, outside of a few hitches here and there, he was the reason I knew what to do when I had Zyi'. I mean, I'd been doing it so long, it was second nature. Only, you don't get to give the ones that fell from your nether bits back.
I lost my brother yesterday. I didn't know it. It's weird because I've been in this weird, mental limbo for the past couple days but all of that seems so disconnected now. I waited to go over here to my Aunt Carroll's cuz I didn't wanna make this about me and that's what it's like to struggle with manic depression. EVERYTHING in my mind somehow all comes back to me, but when it's about death, that's very unnecessary so I gathered myself before I called this Uber. (Who seems shocked that my name is real. Yup. Yes, it most definitely is)
Ya know, this morning Aunt Carroll said that she prayed to God that when it's her time, to take Cinque before her cuz she didn't think anyone else could take care of him as she could. That's a really painful wish for a mother, you know? Then she added that she wonders if this means he's gonna take her soon and I just kinda sat there in silence because I do believe people speak these things through manifesting, be it for good or bad.
The Coroner's office called while I was at Aunt Carroll's. Apparently it was some drunk fucker. DUI. Drinking and on the road. Why are you on the road driving while you're drunk, you useless piece of shit?! There's Uber. There's Lyft. There are cabs! Why drive drunk?!
He was hit by 2 people. TWO PEOPLE. SOME DRUNK PIECE OF SHIT then somebody who probably didn't even know what was going on. I'm on foot all the time. Like, everyday. I've almost been hit twice. This is different. This is not the same. The people say he didn't suffer. As a matter of fact, he probably didn't even get to register being hit cuz he died on impact.
I wanna say I'm fine cuz this didn't happen to me, ya know? It's not like 2011 where my entire life was weaved through what happened so it brought me to my knees. This isn't the same.
Why?
Because I don't see enough people. I cry because it's my baby brother and I'm heartbroken but my memories of him are from being his "mommy", not from now. It's so, so different than 2011. It's a different kind of pain that started my path to be mindful of the bonds I create. In therapy, I don't talk enough about why I really stay to myself outside of it being a preference. Something changed in me in 2011. It is known. This just makes me feel really sad and I just wish I had someone to call… So I called Andy and he listened to me cry because he is Andy and I love him for being my friend… Then Mike called and I cried to him too. He might come after work. I want him to. I kinda feel like I need him to. Ya know, I just realized that this is the first time I've told somebody in YEARS that I need them. I hate that. Feeling like I need anything, you know? It's just not something I excel at. I create solutions. Problem is, I don't have a solution for this.
People are already making their Facebook posts. I have not. I don't need some strangers who only care about me when I'm posting pics to send me their likes, loves, thoughts and prayers cuz that's about all their fingers can come up with. I hate that shit. Always have. It's my least favorite thing about social media. I'm not even good at condolences and I'm not quite sure why but something about "I'm sorry for your loss" has always pissed me off. I've never figured out what it is about those words that grate my nerves to the bone, but something about them will always draw a negative reaction from the pits of my soul. Probably because mentally my brain keeps a rolodex of Webster's Dictionary words and
^That's what comes to mind. My brother isn't some loose change or some shit, ya know? He's not a few quarters jingling free cuz I sat down too fast on somebody's couch. I didn't even spend that much time with him after I moved out. As I said, this is different. Plus that, I've always hated it when people would do stuff like that… Swooping in with posts and shit when they know damn well they could have been there while these people were alive. I wasn't around much after I moved out so I feel as if my mourning should be a private thing… Only for me to wonder if that's just a part of who I am cuz in 2011, that was private as well. It still is. Ya know, you never want to get used to someone being gone. That's never a goal but over time, depending on who you are, that's what you do. Eventually, after all the tears and anger, you realize that this is the world we live in. Some live years and years… Old enough to see their skin grow wrinkled and regaling their grandchildren with tales of their youth.
My brother won't get to do that. He didn't even get to see his first wrinkle. He didn't have any kids. He did leave behind a very precious dog tho'. He was only 25.
Ya know, I remember the day he saw me out walking and he picked me up cuz he said he didn't see why I walk everywhere. I told him it was because I like to.
I should start doing more of that… What I like to. One day when I'm 109 and not looking at day over 34, I wanna say I did the rest of this thing how I wanted to. That I forced through this depression mess and I lived more than I ever thought possible. That's what I wanna do. I just wanna do whatever I want for the rest of my life.
No questions.
No uncertainties.
No fear.
It's time I start doing more with the time I have left on this Earth. Yes, I've done a lot, but there could always be more.
I just hafta go get it.
Later
PS: (Entry Edit... 11/1/2022) I have to go to work today. Not because it's a must. More like, because if I sit with my thoughts for another day, I might just start telling myself that never leaving the house ever again would be the better choice. That's not gonna work so yeah, I gotta go.
PS2: Mike did end up coming. I was asleep when he got here so he sat in my yard for an hour 'til I woke up. When I finally got up, the first thing I did was grab him. I just stood there and held onto him for like, a full minute. He didn't have to come and he didn't even know what to say, but none of that matters. What matters is he showed up for me and I appreciate him for it. It means more than I can ever explain cuz my mind starts to tell me lies if I allow it
PS3:
^I came across this. It doesn't mention the 2nd car. I wonder why. Right now I'm wondering about a lot of things.
Mostly, why this even had to happen.
PS4: On break, I ran into Player 456. And you know what? I yelled at him. He gets to fuck up his life and abandon his family. Still alive. Still fucking it up. My brother who had his shit together and was in the beginning stages of his career? Dead. So yeah, I yelled at him and he deserved every last single fucking syllable.