January 1st, 2017
3:28 p.m.
I have decided to keep a journal documenting my day-by-day life and to share life stories. Why? Answer: My grandmother gave me this leatherback journal before she died and told me to do with it what I will. Fill it up with what I want. Make her proud.
So that's what I'm going to do.
Happy New Year. 2017. . . Nothing's happened yet. What do I write today? What about sharing with you my New Year's Eve?
My little brother had went out while I stayed in on New Year's Eve. He asked me if I wanted to join him, I shrugged and told him that I'd rather stay in this year. Truthfully, I'm not too fond of his friends and probably would've spent most of the night hiding in the corner nursing my drink and avoiding everyone.
I don't have many friends of my own so it was laying on the couch and falling asleep before midnight that eve.
And my brother came stumbling in with a huge-ass hangover in the middle of the day today, popped in a couple Tylenol, and passed out in bed. That was it.
. . . Not very interesting, I know. It's only a half-past three so maybe I'll update you later?
Lovino Vargas
5:13 p.m.
My brother woke up. He wouldn't stop going on about the party he was at last night. Loud music, lots of alcohol, pretty woman. "You should've went, Lovi!" he exclaimed. "Oh, you would've had a grand time!"
No I wouldn't. He knows I wouldn't. Maybe he just assumes that someday I would find the same interests as him. What am I even interested in again? I don't remember.
Maybe that's the real reason why I stayed home? I wouldn't have fun because I don't know what fun is anymore. When was the last time I had fun again? It's probably been years since I can't think back to recent times where fun was evident in my life.
Fun. Interests. Hobbies. Such foreign concepts. Why did this all just occur to me now?
I can remember when I was eight and I would go outside and play with my brother. There are woods out near my house that we would go exploring in. Would I still be interested in that now? Should I try? Maybe I'll ask if we could take a walk in the woods again? Things sure have changed a lot since then. Have the woods changed or are they still the same? I feel like I could map them out like the back of my hand. That's how often we used to go out.
But that isn't true today. Did I really have fun when we went back there, or am I just imagining it now?
I remember our walks back. We must've been laughing because I don't remember frowning except for the one time we didn't return until after dark.
Oh how much had changed after that… We returned to our yard and waiting on the porch was our grandfather. His look was a mixture of anger, sorrow, and worry.
"Where have you been?" his voice was soft and painful. "We tried calling you in for dinner but the two of you weren't out here."
He always held himself as a strong and unafraid man, but in that moment he looked as if he could've cried. Truthfully, the only time I remembered seeing him cry was after grandma had passed. That won't be for another six years down the road. This time he put on the façade, but he must've cried after we had went to bed.
He scooped my five-year-old brother into his arms, stroked his hair and repeatedly murmured "Oh, Feli. Oh, Feliciano."
No surprise there. I was never grandpa's favorite, and being the older brother he expected me to be a little wiser and come back on time.
Now I remember why we stopped going out.
Lovino Vargas
5:32 p.m.
Feliciano. My brother, Feliciano. Maybe I should explain him more before I go off on even more tangents.
My brother holds a kind of atmosphere that make people fawn over him. I never understood it. He has always been everybody's favorite. It's not that I am hated, I'm loved by lots, but people have just always preferred him over me.
They won't admit it, but it's true. I'm not as beloved as Feliciano is or ever will be.
When grandpa held Feli and made sure he was okay that night we came back late, that's when I started figuring things out: I'm loved, but Feliciano's essence draws you in more.
No kidding. I've been drawn in too. After the deaths of both of our parents, I felt responsible for taking care of Feliciano and I started to feel attached to him. I understood.
And I understood when grandpa held him in his arms while also holding back tears, because I would've done the same thing.
And as we grew up I noticed it even more. Maybe it's his innocent appearance? Or maybe it's all an illusion we see? But he's the one thing I will love and protect more than anything else in the world. He's my little brother, even over the stupid things he does - like getting drunk on New Year's - I still see the innocent five-year-old he once was.
Maybe that's another reason why I didn't want to come with him New Year's Eve? I would have to face the real person my brother has grown up to be, and that's somebody I don't want to meet.
"Ugh… I have such a hangover…" he grumbled as he came home.
I didn't want to know that this is the Feliciano now and not who he was then.
"I'm taking a nap." then he brought his cup of water up to his lips and downed the two Tylenol.
He went to our bedroom without another word my way. It makes me wonder what made him decide to grow up as a partier? Will I ever find out?
Yes… Things have changed. It's strange how siblings can change so much. Somebody you're supposed to know but has turned into a stranger.
Maybe I'm just old fashioned and can't stand change?
I guess this journal can help me figure it out? We'll see.
Signed,
Lovino Vargas
