Hullo it is me. I have posted before under this pseudonym to complain about my bipolar suicidal brother and paranoid bipolar occasionally suicidal best friend. Tonight we are back on the brother, who has spent the last week on the verge of hospitalization due to flunking his penultimate semester and also because all his medications have stopped working. Fair warning, I am going to be a bit shirty. And also drunk. So! said brother has been waffling on whether or not he requires hospitalization all this week. A bed opened up, he announced he was doing better. He plays video games and watches videos about video games. He has gained a significant amount of weight (significant because he's normally kind of a meathead and does things like running eight miles in one day). Tonight I was engaging in my specialty, which is distracting him from his troubles. Not exactly a long-term strategy but we all play to our strengths. We were watching a movie when our probably-bipolar father wandered in and wondered why my brother had missed his band practice tonight. I was not aware that there was band practice but apparently there was, and furthermore that missing it was apparently an indication that he was not engaging in the practices that could keep him feeling happy(er) and productive. My father, with the best of intentions, lost his fucking top. Yelling about schedules and consistency and what is best for my brother. Malesib, naturally, went somewhat blank in response and didn't move for some time after Father's departure. (We could still hear him ranting to Mother upstairs.) I was a bit buzzed for unrelated reasons and hugged him for a while while cracking jokes about Father's temper. (I get affectionate when drunk.) Brother made his way outside and took my car. I requested that he not stay out too late, which (in my mind) also encompassed not fucking killing himself. Hopefully the message was received, especially seeing as he left his phone behind. I have, as of this writing, not heard from him, but I hold out hope that he will return alive tomorrow, especially as I have expressed to him that his suicide would probably inspire my own. (Does that count as emotional blackmail? I don't care as long as it keeps him alive.) I am remaining calm. I am the last calm person in my household, I believe. I am sick of my loved ones trying to kill themselves. I feel a bit... stretched, angry, stoic. Brittle. I want to be angry at him but experience tells me that it will make him worse. I'm scared of losing him but I don't know how to stop loving him and everything is terrible. I'm crying right now and I don't know what to do. We can't even call the cops on him because he doesn't have his phone and I'm sick of being the stable reliable one every time this shit happens. I just... wanted to vent. Thanks for listening. He'll probably live.
Brother back, safe (for now). Called it. Father caught Self crying, generously offered to not acknowledge it. Both of them playing chess now. Thanks all for participating as audience.
