You'll Be Okay

Everything is fine in my family until it’s not. I Tumblred through my brother’s withdrawals. Not about it, but through it. Collected photo after photo online to make a wall to block the sound of his retching. 17 was already too heavy for me to carry. My shoulders did not know how to bear the weight of all the things I wanted to say to him. Like: “I miss being kids together.” Or, “I am afraid of losing you before having the chance of knowing you as a sober adult.” Or, “I keep going to bed terrified that I’ll wake up to you as ghost.” My mother’s voice is most her own when it’s a slap. She is so good at seeing people break down and then turning away to smile. I have learned so much from her. Numb comes so easily now. Smile it away; stay still and survive. These mechanisms are now burnt into my skin. If our family is a car, we are one with all four tires blown off. We are trailing the smell of burnt rubber thick and smoke behind us. We are on fire and still, we are bickering over which song to play, which childhood pain to drown out. All of us want our pain to be important. We don’t see how we do this to each other. We each call ourselves the fire. When really we are sparks. We all started this and this smoke is on our all of our tongues.