Just Say No

Just Say No

Just say no. . . I can say no to drugs, but what about my brother. He looks like my brother on the outside . . . well, sorta. Long hair, sometimes I can’t even see his face. It’s like he’s hiding something. He doesn’t want to look you in the eyes. When he does. . . it’s like he’s not even there, like he doesn’t see me. That’s when they take him to rehab as in rehabilitation, as in get well and go home. Yeah right!

He comes home and for a while it’s like it used to be when we were younger. We play b-ball, go places, it’s like we’re trying hard to be normal, like if we keep up the act long enough we won’t have to act anymore. But then he starts coming home late again, they call and say he’s not in school, music gets louder and he gets meaner and there’s that look in his eyes again. He takes drugs to get high and smokes dope to get back down again. I’ve smelled it on him when he comes in at night. And my parents lecture me about not doing drugs – “look what it’s done to your brother; look what it’s done to our family.” I can’t figure out what’s so good about it that he has to keep doing it, or why he has to get high to run away from us. Why doesn’t he stop? Why did he start?

We don’t talk about it much, but everybody knows it. He needs to go to jail for all the trouble he’s caused our family. It’s like he’s so bad that I have to do everything right to make up for it – do everything perfect. (long pause and a sigh) Before all this started happening, I used to want to be like my brother. He was good at everything, now he’s nothing, dirt . . . a loser . . .and sometimes . . . sometimes (puts his head down and sobs into his arms) I wish he’d just stop.