Maybe A Lot of Things.

So, this is going to be very long, and very jumbled. Very jumbled. Just a warning.
Listen: I was born into a big, messy house on a forested mountain with a wonderful view of the city of San Jose underneath.
This house was veritably filled with the trash of the past two generations that had lived in it. my grandmother had died in that house, and I’m fairly certain I had an uncle that was born there. I don’t really know.
There was a forest outside this house, a beautiful green thing filled with birds and boars and bugs. I loved it.
Me and my siblings, a brother and two sisters, played in it all the time, as there werent many other children in the area.
Maybe that’s why we all aren’t so good at talking to people now. That is to say, we all turned out shy.
That was fine.

To begin my story, I have to give a little backstory of my parents.
My mother and father met when they were 14 and 40, respectively. From all accounts, my mother initiated their relationship.
Shortly after they met, my brother was born. My mother was cast out of her family, and went to live with my dad in the aforementioned house. This wasn’t some romantic eloping.
He beat her, from time to time.
I remember witnessing a couple of times.
The second time is worth mentioning. She was attempting suicide by jazzing up her body with all kinds of chemicals which are supposed to help you sleep. That is to say, she took a handful of pills.
My dad caught her and beat them out of her.
I remember the ambulance coming and taking her away, but nothing else of that night.
I know that she was a cutter, I can see the scars on her arms.
When I was in the second grade, she got a divorce. I was naive then. I thought maybe things would work out. They didn’t, she left him, she got a boyfriend named Tom, they moved to a small apartment complex that I grew to love.
Tom is still here, they arent married or engaged, still just living together.
These are the two households of my life, my father, and my mother with Tom.
I have moved about to a new house with both of them about 4 times each.
My siblings and I have been shuttled back and forth between them for the past 9 years. My brother was lucky, he is in the air force now.
More on that later.
Now is for relationship problems.
I have never been able to get the girl.
She always moved away, wasn’t interested, or I just never got the nerve. Or, in the most recent, devastating occasion, she got a boyfriend while I was away.
Let’s call her Matilda. She used to hate it when I called her Matilda.
So would I always call her Matilda.
I met Matilda in orchestra class freshman year. She was a sophomore. We had apparently lived the exact same lives, we had gone to the same schools, and experienced largely the same things all our lives. It was terribly romantic.
I was so hung up on her because she was the cutest, most bubbly person that ever lived. She made me laugh when nothing seemed all that funny.
I moved away, to another city two hours away with my mom this school year. We maintained contact. In fact, I saw her every time I came to visit San Jose. We ate at taco bell and laughed and smiled and were terribly happy.
Then, a guy named roger asked her out. She said yes.
She tells me they are very happy together.
That’s not all that fine, for me, at least. She’s happy, which is the important thing here.
I want to hate him, but I can’t. Roger is a nice kid. Im just jealous of him, I suppose.
The way he held her, that was how I found out, it’s burned into my head.
Apparently he had asked her out a couple days before I visited to watch the school musical, which she was in.
I think the most unintentionally malicious thing she said, was that I would have had a chance, its just that she was with him now.
She said she isn’t worth dying over, but she makes me contemplate suicide every day. Nothing else in my life, not anything I’ve experienced hurt me as much as she did.
I don’t really know what to do.
On to my brother:
My brother joined the air force out of high school. His best friend joined the army.
He got married, too. I didn’t get to go. It was badly kept secret.
We went to pick him up one time, when he was on leave. My sisters and my dad and I went to LAX to pick him up.
There’s no other way to say this, so I’ll just blurt it out.
In the hotel room, he snuck into my older sister’s bed, and … Committed certain acts. Indecent acts. Meanwhile, everyone else was asleep. My sister confessed in tears a couple of weeks after he went back.
This was about a year ago, and I don’t know what, if any legal action has been taken.
That being said, he isn’t mentioned by my family, apart from my dad, anymore.
My dad tries to have his son’s back. He was raised that way. Nothing is more important than family to him.

I guess that’s why what happened with Matilda hit me so hard. I guess I felt like I had one last chance to do something right, like of I could just get this, everything would work out.
I was stupid.
I am still stupid, I have decided to wait for her. Maybe in vain.
Maybe a lot of things.
Today is her birthday. And yesterday she went shopping for a prom dress I will never see her in.
Roger is the one all that is for.
They tell me I will never move back, that I will have to be content with visiting from time to time.
My friends are slowly forgetting me.
I don’t know why, but I seem to have devolved to some pixels on their phones.
That’s what I feel like, anyway.
I don’t think that I’m okay. Maybe complaining to strangers will help.