One Day, Robots Will Cry

Since I’ve gotten several direct messages on twitter about my sporadic and depressing tweets, I figured it was time to explain via blog for everyone who isn’t already in the know: my brother is back in the hospital. Apparently, over the past several weeks, while simultaneously buying everything on his Amazon wishlist, he ordered all the supplies and chemicals he would need to make cyanide again. Seeing how it didn’t work the first time and he has had nightmares and flashbacks to that incident, I’d have chosen a different strategy on the second go ’round, but I’m also not depressed or suicidal… so who knows. Maybe, in that situation, I would try the same thing.

Anyway, for whatever reason, he stopped himself, called 911, and had the squad car take him to the hospital where he checked himself into the Mental Health Ward. That was around 1am Wednesday morning. I got a call from him at around 720am as I was leaving work. As I got home I found all his supplies out and in the ready position. Our kitchen was inches away from becoming a crime scene and my apartment minutes away from being a nightmare. I just dropped everything and collapsed in the doorway. I had been hoping the whole way home that it was just a bad dream, that maybe he was playing a cruel prank… anything but this… but it was real.

After a few minutes I realized the door to my apartment was still open, so I got up and closed it, and thought to check his room for a note or anything… there was a new version of his suicide note and death quote list on his computer. I just leaned back in his computer chair, fell apart, and started gathering the pieces.

Took pictures to show to the therapist/doctor at the mental ward. Printed his suicide note and quote list so they’d have it on file. Started to clean the kitchen and just couldn’t do it. Took a shower, got dressed, and went off to the hospital.

I called dad on the way there and explained what I knew. Went back and forth between the hospital a couple times to get his meds and other things the docs needed. Went by his workplace and explained why he wouldn’t be back. Talked to the parents a few more times. Broke the news to his friends. Sat and listened to Stevo in the ward… while he did a puzzle… never looking me in the eyes, never showing remorse, never showing any sign of depression…

Laying on the floor with all the TV’s in the apartment on different channels, I fell asleep for maybe an hour. His friends came over to keep me company sometime that afternoon. My parents got here a few hours after they did. We ate, I tried to sleep some more, I worked that night. I decided not to go see Stevo with the parents on Thursday. The more I find out about how planned this was, and how far in advance and how much effort he had to put into this, the more mad I get. Maybe this entire move back to Lincoln was just so he could try again. I’ve never felt this conflicted about anything before.

The parents went back home Thursday afternoon. I slept all day… worked again, and am now trying to finish the comics I was doing Wednesday, before I found all of this out, so that I can try to have fun at the Nebraskon this weekend. The parents will be here when I get home on Sunday. I work that night and then Monday morning they’ll pick Stevo up from the hospital and take him to a longterm facility in Kansas City where he’ll spend however much time he needs to spend there getting better. After he’s released he’ll have to go to a different therapy place daily, for the entire day, and during that time he’ll live with my parents. Hopefully this is what he needs to get better…

As for me? I’ll be in Lincoln until at least next July when my lease is up. Maybe, after thats over, I’ll move somewhere I want to go/be this time. Or maybe I’ll just move back to KC so I’m at least near family. Anywhere’s better than Nebraska… right?