The Wrong Thing to Say

February 3, 2008
By Thomas Luongo, Tewksbury, MA

I was out of my mind. All this anger was built up inside me. I was living with my dad, step-mother, brother, and sister. My mother can’t even do her part as a mother and come to pick me up so she can visit me. She was supposed to come pick me up on Christmas. She never came. The next day I called and she said, “I forgot.” One month later, the same thing happened. It was buried inside me. I let it all out on my brother. We were going to bed one night and that’s when it happened. I threatened to hurt him. He SCREAMED bloody murder. I had never heard him scream like that. My parents ran in and took him out of our room. I felt like criminal. I just couldn’t talk to anybody. I was ashamed. I tried to reason with myself to talk to my brother about it. But when I tried it all ways turned into argument. I was feeling worse and worse each time I talked to him. A month passed then two. Now I was in a psychiatric hospital. I still hadn’t apologized. I caused a lot of trouble there. Then I moved to a Intense Treatment Program. My first month there I finally apologized. It was one of the hardest things I had to do. I thought he would just walk away and not take it sincerely. But he didn’t he said, “don’t worry I still love you.” I was shocked. How could he still love me, after I threatened him? I never apologized. I was lost. He told me, “No matter what happens we’ll always be brothers.”

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