Speak Up

When my mother was 17 years old, the same age as I am now, she gave birth to my big brother. His biological father committed suicide before he was even born. Mom chose the perfect couple, a couple who couldn't have children. They had been her youth ministers in her church. 3 years later I was born, even though it was just my mom and I, My brother was still in the picture. He came to our family functions, and didn't know that I was his sister or that my mom was his mom until he was 12. Shortly after, his "Mother" died. It was really tough for him after that. His dad remarried to a woman with 3 children of her own. They were horrible to my brother. Though there were many other issues that came in time, and when he was 17 he decided to move in with mom, our younger sister, and I. Meaning he would go to a new school, be around new people, and be away from the small town he had grown up in his whole life. We also lived in a small community and it was easy for him to adjust. We spent a lot of time together, and had always been close. The crowd I ran with didn't have a very good reputation, and I had only gone to the school for a few years. My brother spent most of his time with me and my friends, and I didn't mind at all. I was the youngest of them all, but I kept up well. We liked to have a good time and experiment with different things. I stayed in boundaries even when everyone else chose not too. One of them being my brother. After he graduated, along with all of our friends, then left to work in another state. During that year we kept in contact. Time passed and he came back home. We struggled with many things, but we had always had each other. He got a new job on a road crew, and that's where it began; road crews are notorious for their drugs. He started out only doing it every now and then, and escalated quickly. From there he turned to dealing. He would call me telling me he was okay, and he could control himself. I knew enough about Meth to know that this wasn't the case, and that it would only get worse. However, I chose to believe him over what I already knew. You don't want to believe that you will lose your best friend. Finally he came home. He would tell me stories about being high, trying to glorify the false feeling he had. I was the only one who knew in my family. My mom would question me and I would cover for him, I would make up excuses. "Why isn't you're brother sleeping?" "What's wrong with him?Why's he acting like this?!" "Where is he going this late at night?!" I would blame it on stress, his girlfriend, depression.. anything not to tell my mother that her only son was IN LOVE with a monster. I moved out of my moms house months before he came back the last time. I went to the house my brother was living at. He looked like death, like he hadn't bathed in at least a week, or eaten in a month, his cheeks had sunk in, eyes were bloodshot with dark bags, a scab here and there. It broke my heart when he told me he wasn't using again, because it was a lie. My brother continued to make bad decisions and sank deeper and deeper. Some nights he would call me threatening to take his life simply because he couldn't take it anymore. He was jobless, homeless, and friendless. He lived in his broke down car for a while. He messaged me saying he loved me and would miss me, that he was leaving and wouldn't be back. I've blamed myself for a long time for whats happened. I know now that I couldn't have stopped him. I tried getting him help. He didn't want it. My family knows now, and they know I kept it secret. He's 20 years young, and wanted to make it big racing dirt bikes. He had many other dreams, but their gone now. We miss him and love him. I miss him and love my brother, but he isn't the same brother I've known and grown to love. He's a stranger now. It's been a month since we last spoke and I think about him everyday. It has truly been a nightmare to witness all the things I've seen. Yet I still have hope. Stay Strong.