Yesterday,
I went down stairs into the
basement where the laundry room is. My brother's room is the
basement. He was outside. This black note book was sitting on his
desk open. I recognized it right off the back. it was the note
book he wrote his suicide notes in. I had to look at it. He's
my brother! He was trying to get better. He was, then the other
day, he was slipping. fast. So I picked up the note book and read
it. They were letters to his fiance. Just venting. How he wanted
to die. they were written in the form like he was talking to her
with these. But his book was just her. They were things he could
never tell her. I put it down, tears seeping from my eyes. Looked
under his bed, a empty bottle of vodka. It was a brand new
bottle. he drank it all in one night. then i opened his side
table drawer to find his pocket knife. No blood. He's still
trying to hang in there. He's not talking again or eating or
sleeping. His nightmares are killing him again.
Last night my brother spent the night crying
in my bed.
Blake please hang
in there.