My brother died four years ago today. His name was Quinn, and he was beautiful.

I am so conflicted about so many things surrounding him. I hate getting pitied, so I rarely bring him up around new people. As a result, about 3 of the people I went to college with even know he existed. I am so used to saying I have 2 siblings that I honestly forget about him sometimes.

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After my brother died, my dad told me that he had a second brother, too. He killed himself when my dad was my age. That was the first time he had ever mentioned him.

I don't want to be like my father.

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It's my ex's dead ex's birthday, so we're just going to lay around and cry tonight probably.