Tears.

(originally posted on February 24, 2012 via my thoughts.com account.)


No words can even describe the way I feel right now. Like I've been ripped wide open. Like I've been shot with a bullet full of cyanide, and my soul is being crushed to death. His face appears on the computer screen for all the world to see. A photo of him and Dad. More photos. Photos of him at his happiest. Him the way I knew him. It's like I've been thrown into that fiery pit of despair all over again, that pit where I learned the news of his death. That he was no longer here on this Earth anymore. That he was no longer around to talk to, no longer here to go out and have fun with, no longer here to embrace me in his big, bone crushing hugs he always gave, no longer here to tell me how big of a nerd I am, no longer here to teach me things like a big brother does, no longer here to spray old jeans with Clorox and burn stuff with, no longer here to beat me at every video game ever, and ride around in shopping carts together acting like fools...no longer here for me to hear his beautiful, loving voice. My blood. My kin. My brother. No one knew him better than me. No one.

Yet I sit here watching this bullshit where they're trying to say that he took his own life. HE didn't, the world did. The people around him that didn't take care of him. Every single time my mind goes back to his fate, I wish so badly that I could've saved him. That I was gutsy enough to go get him myself, but I was only 16. Why can't a Tardis be an actual real life mode of transportation?

Jace Cameron Stephenson. The name resonates into my ear-buds at 3 a.m. this morning as I watch the WRAL teen suicide news video, and my heart shatters into a million pieces. I'm broken, broken inside to the point of rage and sadness melting together. My eyes fill up with tears, and I instantly begin to sob at the sight of all these wonderful photos of my dear sweet brother...shocked at the jolt from this inner anguish once again that he's not a part of my life anymore. It feels JUST like when we lost him, the very fucking same. Nearly identical to that shot in the chest I felt that day on August 11, 2005......everything has been going so great lately, HE NEEDS TO BE HERE. All these new people who've come along in our lives, my little brothers, my darling John..my buddy Meg from England, (Jace's favorite country)...he would adore them!!! He would love life right now, hell, he'd be our roommate!! Just saying that in my head makes me even sadder because it will never happen....I literally cannot stop crying, it actually hurts if I try to stop.

Seeing her point out his drawings and calling them something negative....they're beautiful! His artwork is what defined him...he was unique, talented, out-spoken, punk-rock, care-free, humorous (dry, but still hilarious) and all around a charismatic young man with a colorfully vivid imagination. He had so much going for him in life, and those drawings, in my eyes, are how he'll live on forever. Through his blogs, his poetry, his love for photography that we shared.

I've finally stopped crying now. It's taken a whole 30 minutes to do this thing. Well, 32. I have nothing more to say. I just wish....I wish to know that he is happy. That he's not sad anymore. That he's not in mental, physical or emotional pain any longer. I just wish I could hear his voice tell me that, that he's okay....that he was wrong about heaven, and that he's safe and sound with Dad and Jake.