Fuck that promise. I will never learn to shut up but always remain the one who says stupid things about wrong people at wrong time in wrong places. But I cannot stop writing. Especially tonight.
- - -
On Monday, as I was cycling back home from work, my mother called me and after getting her main thing sorted out, a similar conversation to the following took place:
"Have you, by the way, heard what your little brother did last Saturday?"
"No. Did he get the police after him again?"
"No. He took ten of your father's sleeping pills at school."
"At school? On Saturday?"
"Yes."
"At the graduation ceremony?"
"Yes. He's alright now, the doctor said he's fine."
It took two days for me to hear that my only brother had tried to kill himself, and I hear it from a woman who said it with a very matter-of-factly tone.
My sister stayed over at my place last night for she had an entrance exam to the local polytechnic today. My mother and my brother came here to come and get her, and they turned up behind my door without notifying me. As I looked through the Eye in the door and saw my brother... I don't know what I was thinking, or whether I was thinking anything at all. During their short visit not once was the Saturday's events mentioned or even referred to. It was that same huge hippo in the living room, or as in my case in the kitchen, whose presence everyone were determined not to acknowledge. Everyone, including me (albeit for reasons unknown), acted like nothing of that sort had ever happened. Anyway, it didn't hit me until later tonight, now, that anytime may be the last time I see my brother alive.
The annual Parental Award definitely does not go to our parents; one has had an eating disorder and a tendency for self-mutilation by cutting the arms, one *seems* normal, and the third... well, an actual suicide attempt should say all that needs to be said. And yet, after all this, our parents choose to ignore everything and continue to refuse to look in the mirror. Really, my parents are the very evidence that proves that s t r a i g h t parents do not automatically produce stable and productive member to this society.
I don't condemn or judge my little brother's actions. It is his choice. Not to mention that when I was fifteen I almost completely planned how to kill myself (the plan still stands, in spite of the problem of how to get hold of cyanide). He’s already going to a psychologist, and since I went to the very same psychologist I know she should be more than able to help him. Anyway, they’re looking for an apartment for him to live in for the last year he has left in high school. We’ll see if we have his graduation party next year, or whether we’ll be attending his funeral instead.
I think I'll re-read Anna-Leena Härkönen’s "Loppuunkäsitelty" tonight.
- - -
The rain comes falling down
My life flows to the ground
No longer feeling the pain
My flame now fading away
Sentenced: The rain comes falling down
- - -
"There are certainly far more people who do not kill themselves because they are too cowardly to do so, than those who kill themselves out of cowardice…"
Paul-Louis Landsberg in 'The Experience of Death and The Moral Problem of Suicide'.
- - -
The Meme of the Day:
Q: Why the rabbits haven't over-populated the Earth despite their fertile loins?
A: http://alisher.city.tomsk.net/shared/bunnies/
(The painting below; "Suicide" by Edouard Manet, 1877.)
