untitled (standard:other, 1036 words)
Author: Jenkis	Added: Apr 20 2001	Views/Reads: 3559/1	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
random thoughts on life and death. feedback would be nice.

so it’s somewhere between very late and very early and i’m sitting here
in front of this computer screen, words pouring forth from my 
fingertips and thoughts clouding up my head. my older brother alex 
decided to shoot himself last night without leaving a note and all i 
can think of is why in the hell would he do it on a monday night. or 
maybe that makes sense. the weird thing is, i’m not really thinking 
about alex but of a boy i knew not so long ago named neil. hardly a 
boy, actually, i met neil when i was 14 and he was 24 at a party and 
fell instantly in love. the first thing he said after fucking my brains 
out in the basement of this party was “you’re mine, little girl.” and i 
didn’t argue. I was his forever. still am, actually, although i’d like 
to deny it at times. it was love since the very start although i never 
really admitted it. to anyone. always have been too proud and too 
scared (something i won’t openly admit, either) about showing any type 
of feeling. his nazi past didn’t really make a difference to me because 
he’d left it all behind and when i met him he’d been out of that scene 
for nearly 4 years.aAnd so started the whirlwind “punk rawk” (as alex 
used to say) romance between neil and i. we were inseparable, he and i, 
since the beginning. and then the unthinkable happened. neil was killed 
on the 15th of may last year. i remember it was kinda chilly that night 
which isn’t often the case. he was killed by one of his old “friends” 
for leaving the brotherhood and dating outside his race (i’m 
irish-colombian). he was killed by the knife the other guy forced into 
his throat before running away and i was left with him bleeding all 
over my black jeans and trying to stop his blood with my hands. 
thinking about it still makes me wake up shivering in the middle of the 
night. i swear everytime i look at my hands i can see his blood in 
them. i think i’ll see it forever. he died with his head on my lap and 
his hands intertwined with mine. I don’t remember if he said anything. 
it sounds horrible but i really can’t. all i remember is that 
expression in his eyes right before he died.iIt was disappointment. to 
put it lightly, anyway. i think i only cried openly once. barely even 
spoke for a week after that. i haven’t spoken since i found out about 
alex. shit. i’m starting to see a pattern. i’m thinking of my brother 
now. he’s been my best friend since i was old enough to talk. he was 
24. his life were his black leather jacket and his guitar who he liked 
to call “christine.” my mom won’t bury him with neither which in some 
way makes him stripped of his dignity. in my eyes, at least. which i 
think is unfair. but mom never really listened to me, anyway. i’m 
thinking of the first time i rode with him and his friends (which were 
my friends) on his beat up old black van full of bumper stickers like 
“don’t like my driving? Call 1-800-EAT-SHIT” and whose color we used to 
joke about. legend had it that alex’s van wasn’t really black but grey 
and that we’d find it out the moment we washed it. i’m thinking about 
why in the hell he would do something like this to me. after all the 
promises and all the late night talks and all the hugs and all the 
secrets and fights and the music and the parties. i’m thinking of what 
he was feelings in those last moments just like i always wondered what 
neil felt. maybe they were both disappointed in the end. maybe one more 
than the other and with more reason. and the stupid question still 
gnaws at my head. why on a monday night, for crying outloud?  have this 
horrible feeling i’m not making any sense and that somehow not crying 
for him makes me a bad person. but, i can’t help it. the tears just 
won’t come. i don’t know exactly why i’m writing this down, just that i 
felt compelled to do it. it wasn’t to leave a stupid little corny 
message that is simply a cliche like “life is short, enjoy it” (god, 
alex would have a nosebleed!) because i think things like that are 
simply obvious. I feel that perhaps this piece would make me put my 
head back together. so far it isn’t working very much. but, oh well, 
such is life. the truth is, i’m 17 years old and seeing what could have 
been the only person i’ve ever loved and my brother die has not made me 
a different person. colder? yes. stronger? maybe. but not different. 
perhaps this was my last unconscious cry for sympathy or whatever, but 
i think i’m simply writing all of this down because this may well be 
the last time i really feel anything. sad, isn’t it? but such is life. 
makes me think of this sandman poster i have in my room that says “how  
would you feel about life if death was your older sister?” but why i 
cannot really tell you. is this the start of a journal i will start 
writing in every night to not forget the small things that happen in 
life? i highly doubt it. i like to remember things my way. not the way 
they exactly happened. “far away is where we all want to go but that’s 
exactly where i am and what no one bothers to know.” a guy i used to 
know wrote that once and i think it describes my state of mind right 
now best. maybe i’m writing this down to simply make sure that it 
happened. my name is kathryn mayfair and i’m 17 years old. i was here. 
let tat be perhaps the last sane thought that goes through this 
stubborn head of mine. i was here. but i think the question always was, 
is anybody out there?


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