This Is the Last Time I'm Living Without You

Unapologetic - expressing no apology: showing no regret for a previous action, or offering no apology for it.
Apathy - lack of enthusiasm or energy: lack of interest in anything, or the absence of any wish to do anything.
Encarta ® World English Dictionary © & (P) 1998-2004 Microsoft Corporation. All rights reserved.
Unapologetic Apathy
Put together, I realized while listening to a song, this almost describes me perfectly. I’m not sure about anything anymore. I am so sick of living. I know that’s horrible thing to say when there are people out there in the world dying, who would give anything to have my life, but I don’t give a big rat’s ass. At all. I just can’t help the way I feel and why should I? If I killed myself tonight how would that affect any of you? Sure, ok, you would be a little sad when you got wind of it, but you would get over it. You would go on with your lives and I would become a distant memory. That’s how it works. It just is. One of my brothers died in 2003 and I haven’t been the same since. I know what you’re thinking, nobody really ever is after they lose someone they’re close to, but it’s more than that. While people have gone on with their lives, there has been nothing to occupy (even temporarily) the void he left. For those of you who don’t know, it was an accidental drug overdose. At least I hope it was accidental, because if he killed himself on purpose four days before my birthday that’s just unforgivable. No, it was. I know it was. Nothing in my life has ever hurt that bad. It still hurts bad enough to where I have to catch my breath every time someone mentions his name or I think about him. I’m sure everyone feels this way, I know, it’s just some people get some sort of okay again. I didn’t. I haven’t. My mom still cries every so often, but my dad only mentions him every once in a while, and my other brother will mention him most of the time when there’s something funny involved or an old story. I’m not in their heads so I don’t know what they’re feeling, but I know that I can’t get past this. I have tried to ever since July 2003 to feel any sense of normality, but it isn’t working. I never talk about how I really feel to my family, because…well, we’re not big on the whole deep subjects thing (especially my brother). I constantly want to be where he is. I keep, even now, trying to fool myself into thinking since I never actually saw them take him away that maybe he is just living somewhere else and will be back sometime. How fucked up is that? I know that’s not possible, but if I don’t give myself something to believe I’ll just have those cold nightmares again. There is no closure for me because I can’t fucking let go. I won’t let go. Everyone who supposedly mourned for him is getting on with their lives now, but now al I worry about is people that I love dying. I would spend an eternity in some kind of hell to not have to go through that again, to not have to feel someone ripping a piece of my heart out. Sometimes I just wake up so fucking scared, nothing having to do with a dream or anything like that, and half the time I just want to stay up until I crash. It’s hard to sleep anyways, but with those night terrors it’s almost impossible to tell my body I need sleep.
It doesn’t help that I have these thoughts all of the time…I’ll be holding a pen or pencil or fork or nail file and get these crushing urges to just stab myself with whatever I’m holding.
I try to pretend I’m okay, but clearly I am not. Clearly, I am in some ironic state of perpetual insaneness. I say ironic, because from the time I was little and realized the women in my family weren’t so stable, I vowed to talk my problems out and get help if I thought I needed it, etc. Instead, my brother is comparing me to his wife (“no offense” he says) and that makes me want to throw myself in front of a car…but, knowing my luck I would only dent the car.
Here lately, I’ll be trying to listen to people talking right to me and it won’t register right away. It’s like I am trying to push everything else in my head back to make room for their words. It really pisses them off. I don’t even care. It doesn’t matter if I hear them anyways, because one minute later I won’t remember what they said. I can’t seem to change. I can’t seem to do anything, really.
All I know is that if this gets any worse, I’ll be dead.
Dead.