Brandon

Brandon was someone who I did not know for very long. It was clear from the first time I met him that he was in trouble. He was from Canada and I used to call him the Canadian Guy, with his sexy Canadian accent. I used to get him to just talk to me so I could hear it. He was a gothic. Short dark hair, black goth eyes, the chains and studs, he intrigued me. I can usually tell about people from looking at them and I wanted to know what was up with him. And so I became friends with him. His housemates I had already met along the road, they were the oposite of Brandon. Happy, bubbley, bright coloured little children. I liked them and see them still occasionally. I went to their house one night along with a few others. I spent a lot of time in Brandons room talking with him, he seemed especially depressed this night and I wanted to make him feel better. He told me it was his mum who sent him money from Canada so he could stay on here in Australia, and she made regular calls to check up on him and let him know she was ok. She was late to call. There was more, his mother was a herion smuggler. She was the only person in the world he had, and she had failed to check in on her last run. He was dreading she had been caught. If she was caught, not only would he have lost her, but he would have to go back to Canada where he had less than he had here. He was pacing and crying and upset beyond belief. He punched the wall and broke two of his fingers and as much as I tried to console him, there was nothing I could do.

Afterwards I only saw him once. I asked his housemates what had happened to him and they said he had split without taking any of his posessions. Later still I found out he had gone back to Canada and his mother had indeed been caught with a huge amount of herion and was in jail. I was sad thinking about him. On Australia Day I spoke to one of his old housemates on the internet and she told me that he had killed himself earlier that day. Even though I did not know him that well, I mourned for him and his mother. I wrote this poem after discussing my feelings with a very close friend.

An unexpected friend says hey
she tells me news that changes my day
from one that was not too bad
to something different; depressed and sad.
My friend is gone, his decision, his choice
to stay where he was or silence his voice.
The path he chose, surprised me not

On this day, our country rejoice
but far away, across land and sea,
my friend gave up and ceased to be.
Back at home where I sit,
the shock and pain for me just hit.
I touch the band around my wrist,
given to me by this one I missed.

His friend I was, wen no other was there,
I seemed to him, the only one to care.
How upset he was, that last time,
I was so worried; he was going out of his mind.
A whole heap of anger and two broken fingers,
his pain and fear, here still lingers.

The air around me is thick with sadness.
I wish there was something to do to change this.
I wish I'd tried harder to talk him back up,
to pull him out of the place he was stuck
but try as I may I knew
that there was nothing anyone could do.
So deep was his depression.
I could see by his expression,
my poor friend, his problems are through.

I still have the studded band he gave me, though I no longer wear it because I wore it til it broke. I also have a chain he gave me. I remember spending ages trying to convince him that I needed it or I would lose my wallet. Eventually he gave it to me. I will always remember him, even if no one else does...

"Brother"

When I was young:

I remember being addicted to the internet, talking online to people I didn't know until the early hours of the morning. Having strangers calling me and talking for hours. It was a strange time. One of those people I met happened to be a rather nice older guy. One day we decided to meet, we had been chatting for a while but still it was a rather stupid thing to do, how did I know he would be who he said he was? But any way, I got lucky. Our friendship was one always based on fun and parties. I had recently broken up with my long time boyfriend and I had no one to go out with. And so we met. It was good, we got along, had a lot to talk about. I thought he was rather good looking but he was so much older than me and I didn't need a boyfriend, just a friend. And so thats what we became. I introduced him to my circle of crazy friends, parties and drugs. We had a good time while it lasted. But one day after too many drugs, in a small confined place for a long time, my other friend and I decided it was time to leave. By this time we were the best of friends. I introduced him to people as my brother and nearly everyone thought he was. My other great friend H had become great friends with my "brother" and this day hurt us both beyond what either of us thought possible. We were caught completely unawares by his explosion this day, though I suppose it had to come some day, I didnt think it would be this huge. So when it was finally time for us to leave, leave we did, H and I. I went to visit a guy I really liked and hadnt seen in ages (who I have been with since) and H went home to sleep. About an hour later I recieved a call from H crying, my "brother" had overreacted and called H telling her that we had deserted him in his time of most need and that he never wanted to see us again! I was like, Wah? So I called him and he went insane at me. Yelling and screaming that he had asked us to stay and chat, blah blah blah. Which was true. But we had been in that tiny room for 4 days straight with hardly any sleep or food and we had to leave! And so, we never saw him again. Although once I caught the bus from my house to the city and he was on it, this was about 6 months later, but the bus was packed so we couldnt really chat. At that time I really didnt want to, maybe if I had another chance now... but so much has changed. I dont even have his number any more, and it has been a year or so since any one I know has seen him... Maybe one day...