I cannot stand by and watch my brother destroy himself, but it seems there are no other options. I have asked my family to aid me in staging an intervention, and they have denied my request. Then, I contacted a lawyer, so that I could take my brother to court in order to have him declared legally incompetent, but was advised against it, after he determined I did not have a case. Finally, I contacted the Kristen Watt Foundation who simply told me to listen and be there for him, as there was nothing more I could do without his consent. So I listen. I listen to my brother throw up after every meal. I listen to him moan in pain, when his bones begin to ache. I listen to him call me fat, and suggest I go on a diet. I listen to the music play on for hours, which indicates he is locked away in his room, lifting weights. I listen to myself read my brother’s eulogy out loud, in preparation for when I will do it in a room full of loved ones.
Some time ago, there was a boy named something-or-other, that had small feelings for me. It was no more than desire, but his need for companionship painted it as love. So, I said to myself: Elizabeth, you must get rid of him, or you will make a shadow out of him. He was the stubborn type, with bad hair, and a voice that often cracked. In time, I managed to shake him easily, by giving his friend the attention something-or-other felt I should give him. His friend and I kissed well into the night, falling asleep that way, and waking up to the morning sun.
Later that day, something-or-other said to me, I will never play “Hurt,” by Nine Inch Nails for you on my keyboard. You don’t deserve it. And he walked off into the sunset.
I remember very stupid things.