Lost.
And so here I sit.
Playing with some dumb pez dispenser.
While my brother recovers from his asthma attack.
And mom smokes her lungs to death.
And all I can think is,
"You can see someone everyday, be with them just about all the time, and there will still be things you don't know."
We all live in the same house, yet don't even know one another's favorite color.
Mom doesn't know how much my brother cries when she yells.
She doesn't know how desperate I am to leave.
My brother has no idea I tried to kill myself.
And he'll never live of mom's childhood like I have.
I know there's things about them I'm not aware of either.
Maybe I'm fine with that.
