You guys are my parents, and because of that for some reason I love you. I can't stand the people you have become. I miss the lively, happy, motivated people you used to be. Who used to actually try to better themselves. Normally, you guys are pretty good about keeping your drinking to the evenings. You have your bottle, or two bottles or sometimes even three bottles of wine between the two of you in one night. Or you have a bottle of wine and then proceed to split half a bottle of whatever hard liquor you have picked up, typically vodka. Or you have a few cans of Steel Reserve High Gravity each. Usually, on weeknights, it's just wine or beer. This week however, I came home on Wednesday to find a nearly empty bottle of Pinnacle in the freezer that I know I didn't see on Monday. I also came home yesterday to see a bottle of Maker's Mark, already opened. And today, the bottles of wine were opened around 4. You know, I wouldn't give a shit so much if you didn't have your 24 year old autistic son, my brother, living with you. When we moved into this new apartment, he specifically grabbed a bottle of wine from the case of wine that was your Christmas bonus, ran on to the patio and smashed it into the cement. And you spanked him for it. And freaked out about he broke your bottle of wine. Dad, you weigh almost 300 pounds, and it is all in your swollen stomach. Your face is red all of the time and when you drink, you look like a tomato. Mom, you're a type 2 diabetic. You said you weren't going to drink when you first came out of your coma, and yet here you are sucking on the bottle just as much as dad is. Your face is also red. When you guys drink, I can hear you through the walls always. I can smell it on you when I'm a few feet away. And when you drink, your patience with my brother is even shorter than normal. You yell at him for doing things like going into the refrigerator instead of trying to ask what he wants. You yell at him for standing up and bouncing around yet you hardly ever take him out. You make him eat at the dinner table with his iPad while you eat dinner in the living room watching TV drinking the days away. It wasn't this bad before. You both have always been drinkers, but over these last few years, it has gotten worse. I don't remember the last time you guys didn't drink every single night. I really wouldn't care if it wasn't for the fact that I see my brother, an innocent angel who I love so dearly, hurting on the inside and he can't tell others what he's struggling with. It breaks my heart to say this, but when I see you interact with him it almost appears like you guys resent him for being how he is, that you wish he was what you believe to call "normal", instead of trying to work with him on his communication skills and behaviors. I can try to help him with these things, but it takes consistency and it's hard for me to watch progress I make with him get undone in an instant. And of course, if I dare try to bring this up, you'll throw me under the bus for smoking pot. The difference though, is that I don't have a disabled son I should be taking care of. And you know the fact that drinking daily will do far more long term damage than smoking daily could ever do. So I spoil my brother rotten. I buy him things since you won't, I take him out when I can, I tell him constantly I love him, and I know he appreciates it. I will make damn sure he always knows that Sissy is here for him. And as I type this, tears fall at the thought of not having parents in ten or fifteen years because they couldn't stop drinking. I love you, but fuck your drinking problem.
Submitted January 26, 2015 at 10:18AM by kreeestah707 http://ift.tt/1BcCiju UnsentLetters
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