I’ve always had trust issues. I just bottled stuff up. It was better that way- for everyone. I didn’t want anyone to worry about me. My problems were my own and I didn’t see why I should bother anyone else with them. The only person I was only open with was my brother. I could tell him anything and I knew it was safe. I was never really sure if he listened or not, sometimes he’d just nod and give me a hug, but it felt better to get things off my chest.
I don’t know why he did it. He always listened to me, but I guess I never returned the favour. I just assumed he’d talk if he needed to. Looking back at it now it seemed obvious that something was wrong. It’s like when you do a test in class and have no idea what the answers are, but when you get it back you see you made some really stupid mistakes.
He wrote me a letter. It told me to talk more and tell my friends what was going on in my life. He said there were lots of people who would be there for me. At first I was angry. It seemed hypocritical of him to say that, when he didn’t seek any help. But over time I understood. He didn’t want me to end up like him. Hanging from the branches of the apple tree at the bottom of the garden. His tie around his neck. All I have to do is talk. That’s what he said. That’s what my therapist says. It’s not that easy. The only person I trusted has gone. I’ve always had trust issues.