My life today, perhaps because of losing my brother

Having someone close to you die doesn't affect you the way you think it might. After Wyatt died, you'd think I would have had this burst of, "I want to do something amazing with my life because I see how short it can be!" Didn't happen, not even close. I didn't suddenly go on some big adventure or start doing great things to make the world a better place like so many of his friends did. Just stayed in the same city, same job, same apartment, same everything. Oh, I did rack up a bunch of credit card debt. So there's that.

You might also think that you'd appreciate your loved ones more. And be more open with your feelings and closer to your friends and family. But actually, no. I mean, it's not like I've distanced everyone and am living in a isolated vacuum all alone, but I certainly don't appreciate that life is short so I should love everyone to the MAX. I neglect friendships and don't call my family just like before. Maybe even worse than before. But I don't actively push people away, either. I just kind of bumble along, nice sometimes and mean others, and whatever.

Maybe you think you'd become more religious, or even more spiritual, because you'd want to know that your brother was somewhere that you'd be able to see him and talk to him again someday. Again, you'd be wrong. I wasn't very religious before he died, but now I see absolutely zero value in wasting my time believing in any of that bullshit. I'm not spiritual either, whatever that means. (Seriously what DOES that mean?) Basically I don't believe anything really special happens after people die, as much as I would like to. I try, but nothing makes sense, so why should I pretend like I believe in it? I don't. The end. I'm done trying to convince myself.

Oh, and as far as not sweating the small stuff, cos the worst that could happen already did - I still sweat the small stuff. Bad drivers and parking tickets still make me nuts. People's rude behavior still grosses me out. Yet I continue to do rude things, so my hypocrisy is alive and kicking. I'm easily irritated and feel condescending toward a vast majority of the population for their idiocy - while refusing to admit my own.

Pretty much everyone I talk to says I need to harness the positive energy that's out there, give myself some goals to work toward, and stay on top of my life, and I'll magically feel better. But it's not that I even feel BAD. I just don't care.

So that's where I'm at, about four and a half years after Wyatt died. There's a good chance I'd be here even if he was alive, but I will say that every time I get even a spark inside, I think about him being gone and how nothing really matters anyway, and it goes out again. There just really isn't any point and it makes me tired trying to find one.