19.

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19. My brother. I still feel bad about putting him in that situation with my parents. Them or me. He couldn’t choose, so I stopped talking to him for a year. It wasn’t fair to him that I was indirectly projecting things onto him that I should’ve reserved for my parents (or my therapist), but I wasn’t in a good place. That’s no excuse, which is why I still feel guilty about it all. Every time I talk to my brother, it feels like the score isn’t even. Because it isn’t. I still owe him something, and I’ll continue owing him something until I save him from a burning building or give him a kidney or two. I really wish that all the shit with my parents could’ve gone down without my brother getting involved. But when there are shots, there’s bound to be at least some shrapnel. He didn’t deserve a divided home. It wasn’t fair to him.

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