My older-younger brother (and only sibling) turned 40 in April. It's my birthday. He died at 34 and I am now older than him. I stopped celebrating after he died.

As I reflect on the last year -> I secured a super amazing job. I'm paid stupid money, and it's basically top of my game. I work all the time. I travel a lot and that means I have a lot of time to think about my brother.

I think about all the places that I see, and I wonder if his eyes ever saw those places. Was he ever in Munich? Was he at the cafe I'm at, right now? Or has he ever been to germany? I'll never know.

I've started drinking on my own. I don't drink. I started after he died as I drive myself down a self destructive path. I still drink on my own. I'm not a functioning alcoholic (yet) but another 6 months and I might be getting there. I have stopped cutting myself, but that's mainly due to anyone seeing my arms.

As time goes on, I realise how empty my life will continue to be. I always feel empty. I have zero joy in anything. My parents will die. I'll be alone. I function to keep everyone around me happy. I get zero joy out of achievements, money, experiences. Infact, I don't want experiences.

The thing that really strikes me, 5 years on - as things happen in life, you assume or speculate the types of conversations you'd have with him (or someone who's died). Their opinions on elections, covid, travel, anything. But as the world changes and you get older, you realise that - you probably don't know what their opinion would be. Because you don't know how they'd mature as an adult.

And that's the hardest part. Because you realise that you're losing the person you knew, because they're so far in the past now.

Anyway. I hate life. Thanks for listening. I'll continue to drink alone.