Tuesday, May 22, 2007

Prozac Summer

My brother is home for the summer. I decided early on that I would try to create peace with him. I suspect that has been sustained... like a stain in a new shirt. I passed him coming up the stairs tonight. He was passed out on the couch, arm dangling off the side like some kind of lifeless ligament attached for no clear reason, purposeless. It hung there, smooth like a waterfall falling, dispersing at the bottom, falling, like the twin towers before they hit the bottom. It was grotesque, vulgar, obtrusive. His mouth was cracked open like a child's, but hes nearly 14.

Whenever I ask something of him, to turn down the music, clean up after himself, I have to do it in such a careful way. He is so terribly defensive, a body guard on speed unsure of what he's guarding. If I don't first explain why what I am asking is logical and assure him that by asking him to turn his music down I'm not trying to hurt him, his eyes grow pregnant with anger and then... BAM the explosion (a proper visual representation would be my garage two years ago, if you do recall). I guess "walking on eggshells" is a good cliche for this. I can't say things haven't been better than they were before, I guess in someways they are. There are more drugs and less fights. Well, you win some you lose some. I need to go to school.

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