Brothers
You close his door quietly and take comfort in the fact that he never noticed your presence. Sometimes people just need to be alone, to cope with their emotions. You are respectful to his privacy. But sometimes people need to be comforted by people they love and trust.
A few years pass and you are now entering high school at the ripe old age of fourteen. Kenny will be alone in middle school for two more years, and Paul already has a full year of high school experience more than you. Every teacher you get apparently knows and loves Paul. All you hear about is how great Paul is. How Paul was the best student. You get the impression that they don't think much of you, however.
But why should they? Paul is the smart one, the responsible one, the cool one, the good looking one, and the oldest. You're a bit of a punk, not nearly as intelligent as Paul, not nearly as cool, not anywhere near as responsible. After all, you can't even watch your brother for a few minutes without something terrible happening.
You find that lately you have been falling constantly deeper into a well of depression that you just can't seem to shake. You used to be able to laugh off your sorrow, but it's not so easy anymore. You're a comedy on the outside, a drama within.
One day after school your friend Todd pulls a poorly made cigarette out of his pocket, it's not an even cigarette fill. He lights it up as the two of you walk home and holds it out for you to take.
"No thanks," You say, "That don't look any kind of cigarette I would trust."
He seems to think this is funny. "Man, this ain't no kind of cigarette. It's a joint."
A joint. Marijuana. Todd is asking you to take drugs. You've taken drugs before; nicotine and alcohol, and they've always seemed to help get you through the pain.
A few years pass and you are now entering high school at the ripe old age of fourteen. Kenny will be alone in middle school for two more years, and Paul already has a full year of high school experience more than you. Every teacher you get apparently knows and loves Paul. All you hear about is how great Paul is. How Paul was the best student. You get the impression that they don't think much of you, however.
But why should they? Paul is the smart one, the responsible one, the cool one, the good looking one, and the oldest. You're a bit of a punk, not nearly as intelligent as Paul, not nearly as cool, not anywhere near as responsible. After all, you can't even watch your brother for a few minutes without something terrible happening.
You find that lately you have been falling constantly deeper into a well of depression that you just can't seem to shake. You used to be able to laugh off your sorrow, but it's not so easy anymore. You're a comedy on the outside, a drama within.
One day after school your friend Todd pulls a poorly made cigarette out of his pocket, it's not an even cigarette fill. He lights it up as the two of you walk home and holds it out for you to take.
"No thanks," You say, "That don't look any kind of cigarette I would trust."
He seems to think this is funny. "Man, this ain't no kind of cigarette. It's a joint."
A joint. Marijuana. Todd is asking you to take drugs. You've taken drugs before; nicotine and alcohol, and they've always seemed to help get you through the pain.