Remembering Me Ain't Worth It Pt1&Pt2

Eventually I had to let go of my past. It's been years since I've really taken the time to think about it. Who in their right mind would do that? A sad and tragic past is meant to be forgotten. Never brought up again. Never questioned with why or why me?

    It was a Monday morning and i remember dreading to go to work. What's the point in showing up if I'll be dead tomorrow? I thought.

I thought this to be slightly sickening but yet I found it funny. Thinking about death and suicide right infront of normal people. I mean It would make you feel more out of place wouldn't you agree?

See the way I  see it, if someone had actually cared, I would have never thought of death as a solution in the first place. Growing up, I never had these kind of problems. I feel the need to explain.

I was the middle child of an upper middle class family. But some believed that we were rich. My mother was born into money. While my father was just a rank in the United States Marine Corps. Same as his father, and his father's father and so on. That's why my older brother; James was the favorite. He was perfect in everything. He eventually, like my father, joined the Marines. Leaving my younger brother Justin and I behind in the shadows.

To make up for not being born a boy, I did sports and had outstanding academic achievements. I was the intelligent and competitive one. While Justin was just competitive. Though we did so much to outshine the rest, including James, we were never acknowledge by our parents. As if we weren't good enough. Because in my parent's eyes, we weren't.

    I  managed to advance through high school so rapidly, that I graduated my sophomore year. I was seventeen and earning  my degree in communications. My success at the university was so impressive that at the age of twenty, I was offerred a job at a top event planning company in New York City. With all these accomplishments I  thought; " Finally, I'll make my parent's proud".

I  could have never been more dissappointed in my life. As my plane landed in California, I looked for a familiar face but no one was there to greet me.

In my phone I  read a message from my father,

" We couldn't be there but I had Justin  drop off  your truck. It's parked half a mile east, keys above the front tire. See you soon".

After hours of looking for my truck, I finally lucked out and found it. My pride and joy gleamed in the shine of the airport's parking lot lights. The black beauty was still in the condition I had left it in. Surprisingly.

I felt so many emotions flood through me. I was glad to be home. Away from fake materialistic people. Excited to finally drive my lifted truck. Upset at my dad for letting me down again. And angry at my mother because I knew that she was  somehow behind all of this. You'd think missing my graduation was bad enough right?

    As I  started the hour drive, I  tried to reach everyone. Heck, anyone. With no answer to my manuy calls and messages, I felt like something was wrong. Completely wrong.

    It was Six thirty in the afternoon when I  arrived and the house was packed. My first thought was they were there to welcome me. That thought quickly came and vanished as soon as I  saw my father. Sitting on the front porch alone and quiet. He was crying.My Marine father was crying.

I walked in his direction. Quiet as I  could be, I sat down next to him. Looking at my hands fidgetting and trying to find a way to prepare myself for a dreadful answer.

I whispered, " Daddy, what's going on?"

At that, my father roughly rubbed his eyes to erase the tears he had shed. But three more replaced them.He sighed  A heavy sigh, as if that would bring him some sort of comfort. What seemed like hours later he finally stood up, looked down upon me and said, "Your brother James was killed in action. They notified us yesterday." He handed me a single piece of paper. It was ratted, ugly, and old. It's creases were so deep from folding it so much that I feared it would deteriorate if I held it for too long.