I don't think I will ever get over "it". 

I was there when Tybee fell into the pool.  I saw it happen:  heard his panicked screams, saw his flailing limbs, saw him go under the water, once, twice, thrice.  Saw dad go into the pool, to rescue my brother, saw him drag his now-lifeless body out of the water, saw him start doing CPR on him, while he had mom call for the paramedics.  Also saw the paramedics work to try to revive him.

Don't think I will ever forget this horror that clouds my memory over and over, like yesterday's leftover pizza.  It keeps coming back, to haunt me.

I could have done something to help Tybee, to keep this from happening; as usual, I was afraid I'd do something wrong, so I didn't do a g.d. thing; because of me, my brother is no longer my brother.  Oh, he's there, physically; he just can't do anything for himself because he was left severely and permanently brain damaged.

My brother has the I.Q. of vanilla pudding.  He doesn't know who he is or where he is.  He can't walk, can't talk, can't see, can't even feed himself; all he does is sit there in his wheelchair and make noises.  He can't even go to the bathroom:  he has to wear diapers, just like a baby.  It's really depressing.

I blame myself.  I think I caused him to become this way.  Instead of getting involved, to where I could help him, I let him down.  I let my family down.  And I think they hate me for it.  Mom and dad give me terrible looks or are always harping on me for the least little thing, even when I am trying my best.  Nothing I do is good enough; everything revolves around Tybee, and I am sick of it!!

I wish Tybee had died in that near-drowning accident; maybe then the guilt would go away, and I wouldn't have to live with the horrible memories, or listen to my brother's shrieks, or watch my parents fawning all over him!!  He can't do anything for himself; why are they playing all lovey-dovey with him??  It's me who they should be paying attention to, not my stupid veggie brother!!

I think I am going to end up going to live with grandma.  Anything is better than what I have to put up here at home.  I can't stand the guilt trips my family keeps putting on me; I can't stand the memories, and most of all, I can't stand the sight of my drooly, pimply-faced babylike brother sitting in his wheelchair, rocking back and forth like a moron! 

Maybe it would have been better had Tybee drownded!

*to be continued*