my brother
14 May 2002 at 8:01 pm

right when i thought things might be ok.

right when i thought i could leave with some closure.

right when i believed that even if our parents are crazy, my brother and i can relate on some level.

that's when he has to go and be the biggest fucking asshole ever.

and then deny it.

oh, matt. you are a good person. that's why every conversation i have with you comes back to you. why do you think i even talk to you anymore? because it makes me feel better? no, it makes me feel number (as in, numb-er). i'm glad i can be some source of entertainment to you and your friends. i'm glad i can hang up on you so i can go cry without you hearing and screaming at me, "you fucking freak! you are so fucked up!" and then telling your friends, "jesus christ, she's insane!" and then hearing them giggle.

thanks, matt, for all those times you were there for me. thanks for reaffirming my lack of faith in all boys. thanks for unintentionally restricting me from getting involved with people i might have loved.

do i have any problems with you? oh, no, of course not. as long as one of us feels better, it's ok. i can handle my own anger at myself. but i can't be angry with you. because you can't deal with it. you think i'm insane? look at yourself, you asshole. you've been an alcoholic since high school. you've been on every drug at least three times (oh, but you don't do that anymore.) you're 20 and already you've followed the b@l@v@ge family tradition: when in doubt, deny, drink, and blame the other person.

"am i an asshole?" yes, a charming asshole. "is joe an asshole?" hell yeah. "and colin's a drunk asshole." alright.

fuck you. i'm sorry you feel like i have no right to be unhappy. i'm sorry you're the cause of a lot of my unhappiness. i'm sorry you refuse to recognize that. i'm sorry i never want to talk to you again because no matter what, i only feel worse.

but i don't blame you. i blame myself for allowing you to do this to me. and you wonder why i don't have friends. you taught me that no matter how much good a person may have to offer, they'll fuck you over in the end. so thanks for that.

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About me
Hi. Morgan, 27, of Santa Barbara, CA. I am a hypocritical admirer of rhetoric (when it is my own) and an observer of literary trends. A secret: I don't take anything very seriously, and that includes myself.