Just another Bloody Fucking Monday.

Monday, November 22nd.
Only a few days away from Thanksgiving and a trip to Virginia.
Mondays are just great aren't they? The end of the weekend. The start of a new week. A sort of clean slate.
Well not really. The world still knows what you've done yesterday and the day before. In fact it knows what you've done for the past three months. Especially when you're in high school. What you do, is never fully erased. It's almost like posting stuff on the internet. You can delete it, but it's really still there. It's just hiding somewhere else.
But I'm not talking about being careful what you do on the internet. Do whatever the hell you want. It's your life. Just don't get drunk on a saturday night like my underage friend.
I seriously want to slap her. When we were in middle school, she always said she'd never do drugs or drink because she thought it was so gross. Then she started hanging out with this chick in my period 4 class.
This girl she hangs out with, is kind of a stereotypical spoiled brat that you would see on MTV's, "My super sweet 16." She talks in that "Oh my gawd!" voice, carries around a designer purse and wears designer sweats. Also she basically fails every class she's in.
I'd like to know what's so great about designer crap for one; and two, what the hell has she done to my friend? She got her drunk last weekend and got her into smoking. Clearly my "friend" is desperate to be "cool" or whatever that kind of bullshit is. Drinking and smoking don't make you cool, they make you a complete idiot. What the hell is wrong with people?! They start teaching us at a young age that these certain things are bad for you. Don't touch them if you want to live a happy and healthy life. The teachers CONTINUE to drill this into our heads constantly up until we graduate high school. By then we're 18 and allowed to make are own damn mistakes cause it's basically legal even though some of us are not really adults in our minds. Wait another 3 years and you can drink alcohol without having to sneak it out of the fridge or cupboard. WHAT IS SO HARD TO UNDERSTAND ABOUT THIS?!?!
I know, I know. Kids are kids and they're going to experiment. But does it really have to be while you're trying to get into a good college so you can really do something with your life? Is it really that hard to wait till you're an ADULT to make ADULT decisions?
It's not just booze and cigarettes, but sex too. All these teens getting pregnant cause they see it on tv and think "Oh hey it's okay. I'll just be like that girl on 16 and pregnant, the sweet life of the American teenager or teen mom. I'll be just fine." NO YOU WON'T DUMB-ASS! Yet again an example of teens making really insane and stupid choices.
Apparently way back when, if you had sex before you were married it was very much frowned upon.. I think even in some societies you could get arrested (I'm not sure about that one to be honest.) Don't get me wrong I'm not saying you absolutely have to wait til marriage because some people NEVER get married and that's perfectly fine. I'm just saying don't do it in middle or high school. Yes shocker, kids are having sex in middle school. (If you can't tell I'm being sarcastic.) When I was in SEVENTH GRADE some kids started having sex. Disgusting right?
You might think I'm prude, uptight or whatever but I just don't want to screw up my life when I'm trying to make something of myself. I get the whole "having fun while you can" thing. But are drugs, booze and sex really needed to accomplish that? Are they really that necessary? What ever happened to watching a funny t.v show, doing something fun with your parents/ sibling or having a sleep over with your best friend? Aren't those enough anymore? Are those things just "soo boring" or "sooo uncool and lame" that we have to turn to this shit which does nothing but gives us lung cancer, get us pregnant, give us liver problems or even worse kill us? Is it really truly worth it? Just cause "We're all gonna die some day," does that mean we have to do things that hurt us?
Teenagers want to be considered young adults but they can't and never will be. Why? Because they're just a bunch of stupid kids on another bloody fucking Monday, that don't care about anyone or anything. They only care about is themselves and the "rush."

It isn't Fair

This is what I remember and how I feel now nearly a year after the Death of my brother this past January... Maybe some idiots will learn that it's not fun all and games when you drink and drive.....

I toss and turn in my sleep. This dream is too real. I’m walking down a street and waiting for the light to turn green so I can cross. The light finally turns green and I begin to cross the street. As I step out onto the street, I feel like something’s coming towards me. I look to my left as bright lights rush up at me and then, everything goes black.

My eyes shoot open and I can hear something that sounds like shouting or crying. I sit up in my bed and look at the clock on the shelf above my bed. It’s about 4:30 in the morning. I remember mom is supposed to take dad to the doctor so he can get some kind of surgery. I groggily swing my legs over to the side of the bed and slowly stand up. I slip on my bathrobe and make my way out into the hall. The minute I opened the door the cries were already louder. I barely make it down two steps before I see my parents sitting there, collapsed on the steps in each other’s arms and sobbing. One of my older brothers is standing in the doorway next to two police officers.

“Mom, dad, what’s going on?” I ask as I suddenly remember my dream and the fact that my oldest brother was at his grandmother’s funeral in Pennsylvania. “What happened?” the panic is evident in my voice as I continue to replay the dream in my head.

“Come here sweetie.” My mom says between sobs, holding a hand out to me and motioning me towards her. I make my way down the stairs towards my mom and sit next to her. I look up at her confused, but at the same time I somewhat knew what was coming. “Your brother has gotten into a car accident.” She said with tears streaming down her face, “He’s dead.”

I burst into tears as the cop asks my parents if they could ask them some questions. My brother comes over to me and hugs me as I cry. I don’t know what else to do but cry. Apparently I’m too loud, because my brother quietly hushes me as I hiccup and try to calm down. This is all just a dream I tell myself, no a nightmare. I pinch the palm of my hand, dig my nails into my skin, and it hurts. Why was this happening? Why was my oldest brother even driving at this time? My super responsible brother, who was usually off the road before midnight even though he was nearly twenty-two years old, got into a car accident? It didn’t make sense. He was the most responsible and safe driver I ever came across in my life. Every time I road in his car he made sure I put on my seat belt or he wouldn’t pull out of the driveway.

But that’s beside the point. The point was he was dead, but I couldn’t wrap my head around it. I wouldn’t be able to wrap my head around it for at least another seven or eight months. Even then it was still kind of hard to believe.

I was later informed that he wasn’t driving around at four o’clock in the morning but actually around midnight. A man only a few years older then him had gotten drunk and then gotten behind the wheel of a car. A pick-up truck to be more exact. There was certainly no fair fight in this accident. My brother drove this white car that my dad had given to him as his first car. In a sense this car was just a bug on a car’s windshield in comparison to this truck. My brother, along with two other passengers, died on impact. Or so the cops said.

The accident occurred about 12:05 in the morning, literally 5 minutes after my birthday. Happy birthday to me, my brother died. My parents were at least happy that it didn’t happen on the actually day of my birthday, but the day after is just as bad. We drove up to my brother’s mom’s house in Pennsylvania but I hardly remember what we did when we were there. The next few days were all a blur to me. Nothing really mattered. I didn’t have much interest in anything accept sitting there and crying from time to time. I was glad to get messages from some friends on face book, saying if I want they were there for me to talk to. My boyfriend showed up at my house four days in a row just to hug me and let me cry. I went to the school psychologist for months on end and talked about anything and everything. It just felt good to talk about something other than death. Though sometimes we did talk about it but only when I wanted to.

Months have passed by and I’ve come to terms with the fact yes my brother did die. Yes, he had died being responsible when the thing that got him killed was what he had been trying to avoid. But I can’t help but think so often that it just isn’t fair.

It isn’t fair that my only brother still physically alive wouldn’t show what he felt around the rest of the family.

It isn’t fair that once I got back to school, I dealt with a whole bunch of pointless drama just because my so-called “friend” didn’t like the fact that my boyfriend and I got along so well.

It isn’t fair that I’ve cried after going to church the past 3 Sundays because they keep saying God wants your attention and God controls your life. If God controls everyone’s life, then why the hell couldn’t he save my brother and those two other innocent people from that idiot’s ridiculous choice?! Even my own father, when he got drunk at a party a few years ago and sang (or in this case croaked) horrible karaoke, knew not to get behind the wheel of a car and drive. Instead he let my mom, who hadn’t had anything that night, drive us home.

It isn’t fair that I feel so angry at the new seminarian at my church and want to punch her so she’ll shut up about how we have to do this, and we have to do that. She doesn’t know what happened to my family. The only thing she knows is that I don’t really like the month of January any more.

It isn’t fair that I shut out even my closest friends because I’m afraid of scaring them away.

It isn’t fair that my brother was being so responsible and died because of some one’s irresponsibility.

It isn’t fair; it isn’t fair; IT ISN’T FAIR!

I want to go back; back to the way things were before the accident. But I can’t, I CAN’T! He is never coming back. He’s dead and there’s nothing I can do to change that. I can’t turn back time and take the blow from that pick up truck for him so he can keep going. No matter I much I wish I could, I can’t. I’ll never be able too. It’s a hopeless dream that will never come true. I am permanently scarred. My family will NEVER be the same. I won’t ever be the girl I used to be.

I can’t help but feel horrible because I wasn’t a very good sister to him. No matter what my parents or relatives tell me, I’ll always believe that. Mom says that dwelling on it won’t change anything, and she’s right. I can’t change what happened or what I said to him when I was younger. I can’t change anything. So why can’t I accept this? Why can’t I just move on?! Because January is coming and I’m going to turn sixteen while my brother’s body is buried six feet under? Because it’s nearly been a year since his death, I can never celebrate on my birthday peacefully and I know my parents are just going to cry about his death and how long he’s been gone?

I’m so tired. Just tired of life in general. Don’t worry; I don’t plan on killing myself. I’ve got too much to live for, but I’m just so exhausted. Losing a brother has worn me down to a girl left with only half a heart. I’m a jerk at school because I can’t STAND the pathetic, whining brats everywhere I go. They think life is SO fucking hard. Maybe they should have their sibling die before they start whining. I literally called my friend a whiny bitch because he wouldn’t stop complaining about how much he wanted to switch schools because “all his friends went to the other school and this school was just full of assholes.” Enjoy your life! LOVE IT! BE GLAD YOU EVEN HAVE THE CHANCE TO DO SO!

Life is too short to whine and complain about these little things. I basically lost this luxury after my brother passed. I know it might seem like I might be contradicting myself, but I just had to let this all out. I needed something to do besides cry myself to sleep. I needed to scream. I needed to write this all down and share my story because I feel like maybe I’ll make a difference if I posted this online. I was hoping maybe that the more people that read this, the more people would realize how much drinking and driving could affect people. Not just the person they physically harm, but the people around them. Their family, their friends, EVERYONE is affected when a person is stupid enough to drink and drive. I hope the guy that killed my brother stays in prison for as long as possible. Because he didn’t just affect one family, but three. Three families are permanently scarred from this one man’s mistake. Hopefully he’ll realize just what he’s really done. Hopefully, but hoping isn’t enough. It’s never enough. It will NEVER be enough. But it’s all I’ve got…