i'm going to nashville for the weekend. i'm bringing my cowgirl boots, my accent, and my plaid. i'm not bringing any memories, any baggage, and certainly leaving my heartache at home. i need a weekend to completely let my hair down, unwind, and have just a brief second where i can breathe and forget about my life.

eventually i will have to let this all fade behind me, but i'm not ready to let go just yet. i know it will all still be here when i get back, so this weekend i plan on drinking an outrageous amount, smiling, and making some bad decisions.

i love you little brother, and i'll always be here when you finally come home to us. i still believe in you and love you more than you could ever imagine possible.

when does enough become enough? how long do you hold on before you finally loosen your grip?

i told him today that i couldn't continue to be in his life if he continued using. i tried to be so strong, so convincing.

"michelle, let's just be honest. i don't plan on stopping. so, i guess this is goodbye."

so what do you do when someone chooses drugs over choosing a relationship with you? you try to move on, right? you try to hold your head high and know that this is isn't about you, that it never was, and you try to continue your own life to the best of your ability, right? isn't that what you do when a drug addict chooses their addiction over the only person who has never given up on them, the one person who couldn't live without them?

his life wasn't supposed to be like this. neither was mine. my family is completely torn apart, and i'm trying so hard to hold it together to get through the daily routine. but just one more stone thrown my way, and this glass shell i've built will shatter and crumble in an instant.

his life has shown me how fragile time is. how quickly it comes and goes, because i used to think i knew what sorrow was, that i had had my time for grief, but this blows everything else away.

my heart aches through to my bones. i wonder what he's thinking? is he crying somewhere like me? is he missing me already like i'm missing him? is he wishing things had been different and wondering where they all fell apart?

i know i've been so naive the past 3 years. i started this "journey" being 21 years old, watching my 15 year old brother struggling to survive in an ICU while we all held our breath. I'm not sure of the exact date that he started this journey. when he take his first hit? did he hesitate to truly think of the consequences or did he just dive right in and never look back? when he almost took his life, what did he think about? did i cross his mind? even for a brief second? or what about my dad, did he think about him? was he scared?

was he scared that his attempt didn't work? or was he scared that it would work and actually kill him? was he scared of what it would feel like? is he still scared for when that moment comes? he hasn't stopped trying since then, but i know that if he truly wanted out, he would find a way.

i'm terrified for when that day comes. if i'm honest with myself, i know that eventually he will succeed. he will get his wish, and he finally be at peace, if that's even what he's looking for.

and if i'm honest with myself, i wouldn't even know where to begin.