Golly Sandra

There's a ton that I want and need to write down, but I don't know if I have the time to do it, or, when I do have the time if I'll still have the interest/need to write about these things.

Something that just came up that I want to get outside of my head is the fact that I hate driving my car. For those of you who don't know--my oldest brother (in other words, the gay one) over dosed/committed suicide just over four years ago. When he passed away I was just about 16, so my parents kept the car around and I eventually got to drive it.

His car, an old, beat-up hatch-back no longer smells like him, I've long since stopped finding drugs hidden in the car, I've had the alignment fixed from when he wrecked into something the night he passed away, and there are considerably more miles on it than when he was driving it. It's almost a different car.

Except recently everything has been reminding me of him. I hate driving my car, I keep seeing him in his casket. It isn't a pretty picture.

When he died, he was lying on his face, meaning that gravity took over and all the blood settled in his face. As you can imagine, he didn't look at all natural for the viewing.

He was blue, with a ton of make-up, he was bloated, and his neck looked weird. One of the departing gifts he gave to us was he shaved his head only a few hours before he died, which only added to him looking awkwardly disgusting for the funeral.

I keep seeeing that everytime I think of my car. I think I need to get a new one. soon. I remember his promise to me, "I want to be the best big brother I can be for you."

He only kept that promise for a year until he wound up dead. Thanks a lot.

PS, if any of you are thinking of selling a car, let me know. I need to get out of mine soon.