today i will tell a real story.

My brother used to hit me.

I say ‘used to’ because we do not see each other much anymore.

i moved away.

not because of him, but because I went to study.

he never got the chance, for all the drugs and violence.

It got okay, then mum had a stroke, and the lovely girlfriend he had got hit.

as it goes.

I wish he didn’t – i thought he got better

but i don’t know why

he’s never gotten better.

i still hope he does.

i hope i do.

manique.

i used to do drugs.

i say ‘used to’ because i don’t see them anymore.

i moved away

not because of the drugs, but because i was capable of more

but i’m failing

i still don’t need the drugs, though,

they are still gone

i hope they stay that way

i can handle all the things.

even Mickey.