I didn't have a good relationship with my parents. They had a lot of problems.
In 1993, I moved in with my brother, two doors down from our parents.
My brother was and is a lot more involved in the issues that existed between us and our parents.
Now that our parents have died, he's created a brand-new life, and he's living it to the fullest.
When he went to the doctor, he discovered that he has very high blood pressure.
He can't understand it, since he's so happy.
I decided a long time a go that I didn't get and wouldn't get the life I wanted, so I'd accept it.
This is my motto:
It's not my place to tell my brother that he's going to crash and burn. Our relationship has already ended, for all intents and purposes.
I just don't understand insisting on futility.
Acceptance isn't the same as giving permission or enabling or anything like that.
It's just accepting that this is the reality.
Every story my brother tells m about his new friends makes me sick. They're all total losers.
My brother now sees himself as a wonderful, nurturing fairy godmother.
It's mortifying to watch.
We didn't come from that, so there's no way that he can pull it off.
Our parents shocked the hell out of us by dying the way they did. It was an experience that brought me to a level of total clarity.
I thought my brother was with me, but he wasn't.
He's living in a fantasy world now.
There's a notion that if we can just find the right words or people or place or circumstances, everything will be GREAT!
But it doesn't work that way. You have to go deep inside yourself and be brutally honest.
I used to enjoy talking with my brother, but now it's an ordeal.
Like our parents, he fooled me. I'm not resentful. It's just that another avenue has been cut off.
My ideal situation is to have my own small house with no stupid yard.
Inside would be nothing but bookshelves.
And a computer. And a TV for watching DVDs.
That's all I want.
I just don't get the need to exist in a state of complete untruth.
"Aren't my new friends wonderful?"
No. I hate them. You would too, if you were in your right mind.
I don't think about my parents very much anymore.
Sometimes I dream about them.
In the dreams, they're always younger than me, and they're always frantic.
They're trying to solve something, the way my brother is.
I'm not looking to solve anything. My brother is obsessed with how much time he has left. He dyed his beard, and wants to do all these crazy things.
You know what I'm going to do? Wait for the next life.
I have no sense of having missed out. There's no urge to make up for things.
Acceptance truly does bring peace of mind.
I still have my moments, but overall, I'm good.
There's no anger at having missed out, and there's no hysterical need to try and get things done before it's too late.
It's already too late.
But that isn't a bad thing. It's why I'm happy when I see a yellow butterfly.
That's all it takes, you know? A butterfly makes my whole day.
Those who label words as violence do so with the sole purpose of justifying violence against words.