Everything I do nowadays is just pretend. Like playing barbies when I was a kid. It's not real.
This whole situation can't be real. Every now and then, I think about the day when I heard. How? No. It can't happen.
I pretend to be happy when I'm not. There are times when I really am happy. They're just rare. The fact that I'm still experiencing life is gut-wrenching because I've lost a brother who isn't.
I feel like I'm losing myself. I feel the fake happy more than my real feelings.
I've tried to stop it by pretending that he's still here. It doesn't work because in the end, he won't be at my next show.
I'm pushing everything down in hopes that others don't see just how much this has drained me. I'm wearing more makeup so people don't see that I barely get two hours of sleep thinking about it.
I'm scared of many things.
I'm scared I'm obsessing over this, and maybe I am. This is the only way I know to cope.
I have no clue what I'm doing. I feel so lost.
I hate that I keep calling it a situation or an incident. It's hard for me to even say the words of what happened. I'm doing worse about it every day.
Did he really have to go?
I don't like this. I don't like not being able to show the way I really feel. I don't like the mask that sets itself in place. I don't like not having control of myself.
My mind feels like fire and ice. Two destructive elements. One side feels sad. The other is just anger at the world. In the middle, there's a blur. It's probably the only thing truly keeping me sane. It's the love for the people I care about.
To my brother, Movere, deinceps, sine cura, post omnes.
I love you.
