I don't know if this is like... a real confession. Or if it just makes me a bad person. My older brother passed away a few months ago. He was sick for a really long time. Like, since I was little. The whole house was always just... about him, you know? Doctors appointments, meds, my mom crying, my dad always stressed out about money. We moved apartments a bunch of times because of medical bills, even after insurance. I started doing those gig jobs, like delivering food and stuff, when I was like 14, just to help out with groceries sometimes. It was a lot. The kind of a lot where you just wanna curl up and disappear. So when he passed, everyone was obviously super sad. And I was sad too, I think. He was my brother. But honestly? I felt... peace. Like, a huge, giant, GIGANTIC wave of quiet just washed over me. For the first time ever, I could hear my own thoughts, loud and clear. It was like someone finally turned off the blaring alarm that had been going off in my head my whole life. My mom wasn't crying every night. My dad actually laughed at dinner. We ate a proper meal, not just whatever was cheapest and quickest after a hospital visit. And I didn't have to worry about rushing home from school to check on him, or staying up late to drive him to the emergency room when he had a bad turn. It was so quiet, almost too quiet at first. I remember just sitting on my bed, staring at the ceiling, and for the first time in years, not feeling that knot in my stomach. No buzzing in my ears. Just... stillness. And it felt GOOD. Really, really good. That's the part that makes me feel like such a jerk. How can you feel good when someone you're supposed to love dies? I mean, I love him. I really do. But that feeling, that relief, it was so powerful. I haven't told anyone this. Like, obviously not. My parents would freak out. My friends would probably think I'm some kind of monster. I just pretend to be sad, and I guess I am, a little bit. But mostly I'm just enjoying the quiet. I can actually focus on my schoolwork now. I'm saving up money from my jobs for something for *me* for once, not just to help pay for whatever my brother needed. I don't know. I just wanted to get it out. I don't know if it makes me a horrible person. I think maybe it does.