My first real entry for however many days. I’m going to take a risk and be honest for a moment. This is what I have to say.
I’m terrified of you. I care about how disgusted you are with who I’ve become. I am the nameless, faceless evil I once loathed so much. I found an entry in my diary last year- it told of my astonishment at being able to have my own opinion. Alex thought Aaron was stupid. Georgie thought Angela was stuck up. What the?! I couldn’t understand it- was I also allowed to think poorly of my company? It was just inconceivable, and the discovery of opinion scared me. It was dangerous- I wrote I’d have to be careful about not abusing it. What am I now? Openly scorning literally everyone. I am the antithesis of my former self, from compassion to spite. It disgusts me too, but right now I have other things on my mind.
I can’t sleep anymore. It’s one of the worst things in the world, insomnia. You all know what I’m talking about, but I honestly think it has a greater impact on me than any of you. I have one identifiable cause. My brother. I take a moment now to whinge and complain, to have most of you read and dismiss, to have a few of you read and consider, and to have a few of you read and comment with either support or invective. Regardless, the fact of the matter is that I do not want to hate my brother. For reasons I’m still trying to understand, I just don’t want to hate him. Maybe it’s instinct- some trace of nature telling me family will help me survive. Eugene is cruel (though comparatively, I’m fortunate), but he does not anger me. What angers me is my powerlessness to change him- to make him the brother I want him to be. There isn’t much I can do. I have but one trump card; conversation. I tried it the other day, an honest talk with him. The result was his confession that he’d only half care if I hated him. My plan now is to bide my time until he is amicable then assault him with my hurt and suffering. I know I sound like a punce, and I know I’m revealing the most pitiful and vulnerable part of myself, but do your worst cretins. If I’m shot down now, I wouldn’t have gotten far in life anyway.
I wish my brother loved me. And if that weren’t possible, I wish he’d treat me closer to an equal. And, that failing, I wish he’d let me sleep. If I can’t have that, I’d wish he didn’t exist. That’s ultimately what I want. It’s just not worth it. I don’t want him to die, I just want him to either leave, or stop existing. By the gods I wish it.
There. Now that I’m done, dismiss my writing or leave some encouraging/vicious comment. I have nothing more to say.