beware of the ides
December 03, 2003 � 8:11 p.m.

First Entry Today

Last night I could have killed my brother.

I rip out of here and race home as fast as I could so I could give him the car to go to work and guess what? The little fucker wasn�t home. Guess why? Because the bastard didn�t have to work last night and he forgot to tell me, that�s why!!

I was PISSED.

When he did roll in around 1 am, I was washing the dishes (which have been I the fucking sink since I washed dishes last Friday) and I turned to just glare at him. He smiled and kept walking. I yelled �Thanks for telling me you didn�t have to work, asshole!� He came over to me looking all confused and then he started smiling, talking about how he thought he had told me and I just shook my head and gave him my, �No, you didn�t, dickhead� look. He laughed and said �Give me a high five for siblings!!� with his hand held up. I just stared. �Come on�siblings�high five�don�t leave me hanging�high five�sibs�they�re the best�come on�high five�sis�sib�yes?�no?�� he rambled with the dumbest expression on his face. He looked so stupid I had to laugh and give him a corny ass high five (really�who high fives anymore besides coked up preppies that think they�re cool?!).

We sat in the living room and somehow we had started talking about mom and he surprised me by staring at me and asking, �You really have a lot of animosity towards her, don�t you? I can always hear it in your voice.� I looked at him and said �Yeah�I guess I do. No matter how hard I try to get over it or she tries to be nice, I always have that pissed off feeling inside.� He just nodded, and mumbled, �She never really was a good mother to you, was she?� I sat there a moment, turned away and concentrating on the floor as I shook my head.

We talked about how she ignored me and how she favored him. We talked about all the times she called me names and told me I wasn�t worth shit and wasn�t talented at anything but being a burden to everyone. We talked about how fucked up I am now because I had a mom that acted as is she despised me most of my life and a father that walked out on me and a step father that turned out to be a cheat and a liar. We talked about how I was afraid I would end up alone because I fear anyone getting too close to me so I chose destructive relationships that don�t have a chance to begin with. We talked about how I wasn�t going to be like her with my kids because I really want kids, while she didn�t really want me but wanted a way out of grandma�s house. We talked about the things she�s done, the hurt she�s caused, the blame she refuses to accept, and the repercussions of all those things that threaten to bury me every fucking day of my life. We talked about how selfish our parents were�and still are.

I thought I wouldn�t have much to say, but one I started taking, it just all poured out. Every time I thought I couldn�t find a way to express it, I could, and the hate and hurt that boiled inside of me as I spoke made me physically ill. My head was hurting, my hands and voice were shaking, and the rage was choking me as I remembered how much she has done to me and how I could have had a decent childhood if she had just given a fuck about me. She never taught me anything. Never showed me anything. All that I know about being a woman I learned from friends. No wonder I know so little about love.

I wasn�t loved as kids should be love. All I know is that love hurts. Love maims. Love humiliates. Love destroys. Love dominates. Love suffocates.

Love mutates the good things inside and replaces them with fear, self-deprecation, and doubt.

Love leaves.

Love kills.

Love�dies.

I talked until I couldn�t say anymore without breaking down into tears. I talked until the emptiness inside was filled with our voices and hate was replaced temporarily by a melancholy regret for the woman I could have been if only�if only�if only.

He then mentioned that he gets activated on December 15, and he could ship out at anytime for 45 days after that date. They are sending his platoon to probably Fort Levin to be trained as MP�s and they are going to be convoy escorts in Iraq. I watched him talking, seeing how young he was�how so totally brave he is as he confided that he couldn�t see requesting not being sent when the rest of his platoon had to go and there were other guys that deserved to stay more than he did. He said the only thing that bothered him was that he would be gone for a year and that they were talking about taking out all his wisdom teeth as a precaution so they don�t get infected while he�s in the field. He said he wasn�t scared to go, that he was kind of excited. He said he had always imagined that he would be in a combat zone. Since he was 15 he had visions of him fighting somewhere. He said that the visions were always the same. He said that he was going to get hurt while he�s over there�he knows he will�because the visions showed him he would. He said he�d get hurt, not killed, and that it wouldn�t be bad.

He looked me in the eye and said he knew he was leaving, and that he would get hurt, and he wasn�t afraid. It was his destiny.

My brother�the dreamer�like me.

I sat there as he told me his story and I remembered the dream I used to have when we were younger. I used to always dream about him getting shot and hurt really bad. I was always running and searching for him, but I could never get to him�never reach him�never find him�and I always woke up crying. Odd�we both had visions of him being hurt in the military before the military was even an issue.

Fuck.

Beware of the ides of December.

I went to bed after that, leaving him at four a.m. on the couch, flipping through Iraqi news flashes on CNN.

I laid there smoking, drained as hell from all we talked about and all the memories that had come rushing back to haunt me, and staring at the shadows the stretched across my walls. And suddenly, a stupid ditty from some old movie that Satan used to sing when work was driving him crazy popped into my mind.

They�re coming to take him away, ha ha!! They�re coming to take him away!!

I laughed out loud as I heard Satan�s raspy voice sing that in my ear.

I started crying as he kept on singing, long after the humor of it was gone.

Thank God�I woke up not remembering any dreams.