#@lion

So many things went wrong. He made the choices. He chose to hurt me.

And my parents suggested he should get help for what he did. Not me. The one whose brain would be irrevocably fucked by trauma for the rest of their life, it was fine to just let me go on and never speak of it again.

When he was depressed, he got help immediately.

When I was depressed, it took another year for me to be seen. And then they all tried to dissuade me from taking antidepressants, after insisting that I wasn’t doing anything to get better. Pick and choose?

I don’t know. I don’t think forgiveness is an option. I’ll work on it, but I can’t promise. I’m hoping living a continent away will help.

Most of the time I try not to let it affect me, but then he keeps on being an asshole. “I’m mean because I know you get irritated quickly”, yet if I said what I truly thought he’d fucking crumble. What scares me is that maybe I want him to. Maybe I don’t care anymore whether he gets help or not anymore.

Every time he does another thing to annoy me, numbness washes over me. I’m made of ice. I just want to get out of the conversation. I don’t have the patience it takes to be kind anymore. I yelled at him yesterday, when he started being aggressive on the phone about his power being out. “I’m going to call them, I’m fucking done, I’m going to call them and they’ll see” “No, you calm the fuck down. You don’t get to call me late in the night and then yell at me like I’m responsible for your troubles. So calm the fuck down, and call this number. I’ll hang up now.”

He doesn’t remember the phone call.

He fucked me up for life. His choices made me see that our parents did not care, would not step up, would not protect me. I don’t know how to reconcile that. I don’t think it’s fair that I’m expected to forgive him because he’s my only brother.

"that's too bad, he's your only sibling right?"

waddup gurl 

TRANSFORMERS + LION = NO BAY YES WAY.