Thoughts of a Dead Man

I’ve been thinking about my deceased brother a lot lately. His birthday was March 13th, and the 10th anniversary of his death is coming up in a couple more weeks. I’ve been thinking about in particular how much he loved opiates, and my fiendish accounts of the same. Perhaps it was in his genetic makeup to love opiates, and in mine. It could have been in his blood, so to speak, and in my blood as I write this. Perhaps it’s due to mental illness that is prevalent in my Mother’s side of the family. Maybe we are weak minded people. Maybe it was due to his dreams dying at a young age, as did mine, destroying our abilities and making us miserable, making us want to escape reality due to that the fact that our reality showed the fact that he and I would never find whatever it is or was, that we were looking for. Who knows?