Exulansis

"I spray spraypaint on my mind so it gets covered with a plastic coating because it tends to stop the walls from eroding. Calm the trees and eat your seas for they are the entrance that open unless you let it. Don't forget it, live your life and don't get caught seeking nether regions that for you have fought. Don't give in to the plains of hell, for you will turn it onto yourself."

My brother was a writer. His words entranced the minds of people around the world in this little black book he found. I say entranced because he has done this to me and I feel others could relate to this after the way he left. He would say to me that he isn't the man to look up to and that I need to find a great man like Nikolai Tesla or Mahatma Ghandi. The story of how my brother died is not like anything I have ever had to tell before and I hope you find something worth knowing out of it. It all started in 2077, way back before any of this missile crisis and devoid wasteland crap. I don't understand how the United States government prevailed through the war but now they control the world with a monopoly on every business in the world. All of the money goes through them... but enough about that. I didn't want anything to do with my family. I distrusted and despised them all and it was all at the fault of my insecurities. Tom was a great brother and I didn't know how to be a good brother back. "I hate you Tom." That was my message nearly every day. I told him he wasn't worth a life to me and just left him like that. I should say that I never realized how much I cared for him during all this and I should have known that what I was saying would impact him. I just thought it was all a joke. I never expected to be part of his demise. Since I gave you some context, I think it's time I tell you about today. My brother was removed from this world with a dumpster fire. Tom was perusing main street and as always, dressed in that purple plaid zip-up jacket with Softheart jeans. Just as he thought it was a normal day Lindsay, his ex, showed up to tell him that he was complete trash with her spit slathered all the way down his face. I guess she saw him walking to his rehearsal spot and felt it was necessary. It may seem like a horrible thing to happen, and it is, yet Tom was used to this so he just said "Thank you," and walked away. Tom was on a warpath to get to his favorite place on the planet, the garage on 12th street, since he truly planned to die there today. It was the place where his band practiced emo music written and performed by Tom on the mic and drums. Tom walked in and said, "I don't have a name yet." Despite that, the group loved him and thought Tom was the only one who really deserved to get famous. Tom hoped to start playing gigs and touring one day. He didn't like the glorification of fame really, but they all said they were just with him for the ride. Tom sat down at his normal spot and waited for everyone to get to their respective positions. As everyone sat down, it was all business as usual. Tom said, "Let's get this party started!" At this very moment, not one member of the band knew what was planned and how they would have to watch their best friend, and really their idol, die right in front of them. The man, the myth, the fucking legend himself placed the gun in his mouth and let the sound fill the room. I got the call 20 minutes later, well after the news was already reporting on it. I guess his friends thought I wouldn't care anyway. Today I got a letter in the mail addressed to Tom saying that he should go to his bank because he won the yearly $20,000 contest for members and I couldn't stop crying. Who would have thought that his life would have been changed so heavily if he would have just kept going. My brother would have been a rockstar. Tom could have used that money to tour while becoming the best version of himself, but he never got the chance. I love you brother and I am so very sorry.