1 I. Grey

Hi. What you will be reading is the journal of an average girl that used to be happy if not for a possibly more than above average tragedy in her life. No, I'm not being melodramatic, and this isn't one of those teenage angst stories. 

If your holier than thou older brother killed himself at the day of your high school graduation, what would you feel? Nah, you don't have to answer that. I already have one for you.

I hated him.

By the way, I am Grey Summers and I'm writing this now because I want all of you to know that not everyone succumbs to pure melancholy after the loss of someone. That someone actually thinks before feeling anything. 

It's funny, even. Because I didn't even feel a thing. It's like my emotions died with my brother, but the only difference was he chose to die, my emotions didn't.

Anyway, that day made me think of life differently. Like a spark found itself through the smallest cracks on the walls of my ordinary life; igniting a bomb that obliterated every bit of memory I had of the idealistic, happy girl that used to be me. I suddenly saw everything of what it really is — of what everything truly is. And damn, the world could really use a little less glitter. I mean, a smiling face can fool a lot of folk, but not me. Not anymore.

Everything went downhill for my family for a few weeks. My dad spent money on sports apparel that he had never really played, so he never used them. Maybe it gave him comfort, I think. However, what I don't understand is how spending money he didn't have fixed anything. 

On the other hand, my mother couldn't bare to let herself out of her room after his funeral. It went on for about three days, and when she finally got the courage to face the world again, it was as if nothing happened. She would still put on this successful-mother-slash-wife smile that everyone adored — waving at almost everyone in the neighborhood just because she knows everyone and everyone knew her. Some people gave a few how-are-yous and are-you-alrights, but nobody saw her brilliant smile as a mask that she wore over her mourning face. 

Me? Well, I didn't have time to mourn my brother. Everyone else was already breaking down, and I knew that my parents needed something strong to hold on to. I needed to be that something. And if that meant that I wouldn't see my parents' lives deteriorate because of my brother's death, then that's perfectly alright with me. 

Of course, my friends asked me how I was feeling, saying it's "okay" to be vulnerable at times like that, and I don't have to always keep everything together and all that shit. I never really felt like I wanted to explain myself. I mean, it's not that they wouldn't understand, I just didn't like to talk about it. So instead, I'd give them the best smile I could muster and say, "Thanks." 

Now, don't get me wrong. It's not  like I didn't appreciate their thoughtfulness. People never really know what to do or say to someone who just lost a family member, especially if it's a suicide. I'd just rather have them don't say anything. Sympathy is good until it's given too much that it becomes tiresome. 

After all, it only took about a month or so and my brother's death had just become another tragedy in our small city. Everybody moved on. 

Yep.

Everybody…