c'est la vie

this was created for real writing, real feelings, and honestly i need to put this somewhere. tumblr doesn't work because then it becomes a cry for attention. i can't write in my journal because my brain is too tired to remember how to use a pen. and as far as vocalizing it goes, i've done enough of that to last me a while. this week has been the longest of my life, and it started last tuesday when my baby brother was hit by a dodge 1500 truck while riding his skateboard.

i'm not here to write about the details of his accident, or even his condition in the hospital. i'm writing about my little brother, P.J. or Jon Italy Black, depending on what you know him by. he's seventeen and a down right pain in my ass. no one in this world has ever irritated me more or made me scream louder, and honestly, what else can you expect from your little brother? but i also never thought that he would be hurt, that he would be laying in a hospital bed not being able to talk to me, that i would ever really have to worry about losing him. the kid is near invincible. i know few who can top his level of bad ass-ness, but many who try. that's something i really love about him, he doesn't try. he's the most honest, real person because he's never thought about not being that way. he's never desired to be anything except what he felt was him, what he wanted. in many ways i'm envious of that, envious of how he can just be. just be him.

not to be cliche, but i also never realized that these incidents, these accidents, these horrible chances of fate make you see peoples true colours. i've had friends ask every day how my brother is, and others not mention a word. people who ask about details about the accident, and people who ask about my baby brother. there may not be much of a difference, but when you're the family, there really is. you see, this past week my younger brother has really fought for his life. in all reality, he has yet to be declared as 'stable'. he's a bad ass who hit the nurse when he was in pain, but whose body couldn't control his own blood pressure. yes, he could squeeze our hands when we were with him, but he can't eat and he definitely couldn't breathe on his own. in all honesty, my family could have lost their baby this week but thankfully due to prayer and good thought, we didn't.

it's not over. he's going have to be a trooper and a punk to get through this. there's a long road of recovery, and plans for my personal future are pushed aside for his recovery. things change, and c'est la vie, we are here.