[i]Dear Brother,

One month in and I’m already on my fifth one of these journal things. They didn’t let me keep the others. They confiscated them and used them against me in personal sessions. They said I couldn’t write about you. Kind of odd considering you are the reason I’m here. I don’t mean that like you got me here. I got myself here, but you, unfortunately, were a part of that whole thing. They said it was counterproductive. Whatever. I found a way to hide some of these writings anyway. I’m writing my real entries in the back and my fake ones in the front. That way they don’t check the back and when I fill it up, I just say I used the rest or I lost it or whatever. These little schemes against them are really the only thing I have these days. My own little rebellions.

I really miss you. I know how much fun we would have here, making fun of all the crazy people. Then again, I am one of those crazy people. Or so they tell me. They keep using words like confused or depressed. But before coming here, I was neither. I knew I loved you and I knew I was happier.

I’m sorry. Shouldn’t have said ‘loved’. Love. There we go. I love you. I always will. Never past tense. Never.

Dear Brother,

Your face is distant from me always. Like the memory of a dream that I never had. Little bits are there but the rest are blanked by the fluorescent lights and the constant fuzziness. I feel like I’ll never be able to focus my vision again.

I miss you so much. Every week is another slash on my wall. The lines arrange themselves so that my eyes just see some crazy font that just spells your name over and over again. I have seven months worth of you on my wall. The sight making me beg for darkness. I’ll run my fingers over the lines and feel the flaky paint break under my fingers. Just like a piece of me, breaking off the whole and revealing a deeper harshness. I need you to repaint me with you. Everything about you. Your happiness, your wonder, your constant sympathy and ability to make me feel at peace.

I need you. Please come save me. Please.

Dear Brother,

Who am I? How did I get here? This evil place. Maybe one day, you’ll get it. That we can’t be together. Not with the morals they have taught me here. Everything about you is wrong. Every little thing that draws me to you is just a sham. It’s not real. They told me. They teased me. I am so stupid. Why couldn’t I see that this isn’t real? These feelings aren’t possible. Whatever this feeling is, it’s not love. It’s just a mind game. It’s just a trick.

I can’t believe I let you do this to me. I can’t believe I let you get the best of me. I have a future. If I ever get out of here, I swear I won’t be able to look at you again.

Dear Brother,

Sorry for that last entry. That was my celebratory sixteenth month emotional breakdown. I don’t blame you. I can’t. You’re too fucking perfect. I take classes on perfection. And I’ve learned that you personify it. I was the one who wronged you. How can you forgive me? I tainted you. I ruined you.

I will never forgive myself. I will never apologize enough. My best apology is just staying as far away as possible.[/i]