Sometimes it seems it’s just to much.

To much to write to much to think.

I sit up at night, staring at the ceiling of the house.

Counting backwards from 100, counting backwards from 10, count the sheep, count anything really


You say talk about depression, addiction, anxiety and more.


But when I talk you don’t listen.

But oh do you judge.

The actions of people become emotion I must say.

Emotion that’s mine and only mine yet here you are, trying your hardest to hurt the image I’ve created.

Do you think you can hurt the image of the crazy I have become ?

Do you think your can hurt the image of the person I have already shown the world.


“You must forget big brother that your skeletons are no deeper than mine, your mess ups are no bigger then mine, yet the light you have decided to shine on mine, is not nearly as big as the light I have never shown on yours.”


You see the nights you called from the hotel with your eyes half closed, laying in bed wondering if you were only alive or dead, I never told a soul of your hard times, your bad times,

Your times of being literally almost dead.

I never told a soul of the times, the times in the car, the times I thought were actually dead.

The times I called, I called our father screaming, screaming in hysterics, oh my god, I think he is dead,


Oh my god, I think he is going to kill me, as you punched the drivers side of my window over and over and over and over at only meth, Xanax, and whatever drugs flowed thru your veins, into the anger into your hands.


The shaking and terror of the mother of your children as she sat in the passenger seat thinking oh my god, he just might actually kill us,

Oh big brother know today, that your skeletons are no better than mine.

So judge me today. Judge me tomorrow, but just know.

That you have no right to tell me how to feel about what you did to me.

Your action your decision, just like mine.

Your own emotion is yours, just as my emotion is mine.

You don’t have to accept it,

You don’t have to like it.

But you damn sure have to sit the fuck down & live with it.

The person you are, is not the person I loved, the person you are is the selfish one, who knows no compassion.

I suppose I could use the only term to explain of how a “dry drunk” is the term it really is.

“So do me a little favor big brother,

Deal with your own skeletons before you decide to come after mine.”

But still, I love you always.

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