A paper i had to write for a college class (kinda long) true story.what do you think?

Becoming Numb

Waking up early always sucks. I roll over and look at the clock, the numbers flash back at me 6:30. Being home schooled I have the ability to sleep in every morning. So looking at the clock I wonder why it was cut down a few hours. I don't think about it to long, I close my eyes and try to go back to sleep. But that doesn't last long, from my parents room I can hear laughter, it seem really early for them to be up, but not unusual for them to be loud. Being one to not miss out on a good time I decide to get up. I can hear my mom, dad, and sister all talking. About a month ago my parents and I stayed up till two thirty talking, so I didn't think much about it. I walk sleepily into their room, as I do so, they all get quite. Being slightly paranoid I start to wonder if they were talking about me. I sit down on the edge and stare at the computer a foot in front of me.

"Caden, I need to tell you something." Mom says with a face that I had never seen before, something looked very wrong. Normally a set up like that would have some type of joke after it, but this time I knew different.

"Alright." I say as I feel butterfly's in my stomach. My mind starts to race to what was anything I did that could get me in trouble in the past few days. I can't think of anything.
"Caden, Michael is dead." She tells me, Michael is my older cousin. I have always looked up to him as an older brother.

"What?" I say thinking that maybe this is some sick joke, hoping that this is some sick joke.

"He died this morning."

"Ho…How?" I can barely say. I know that he was in the Air Force, but he was still in the states. So it must have been an accident, it had to be.

"He shot himself." Someone says, the voice doesn't register just the words. The words reply over and over in my mind. Each time they seem to stab at me like a blade. The pain is unreal, that is until I go numb. Something broke after hearing that he killed himself. I could deal with him dying from a freak accident, car crash, house fire, anything. I could even deal with someone murdering him. But knowing that the reason I don't have him anymore, is because he didn't want to be here anymore, was just unthinkable.

I sit on the bed staring at the screen, my eyes are looking at it but my mind is somewhere far off for the paradise on the desktop screen. I can see the time he was riding his bike in the front yard, back when I was 8 and he was 12. For some odd reason he is riding around on the grass. For a minute I watch him, but then I get bored. I walk over to the side of the house, and find a broom. I unscrew the stick from the broom part. I go back over to where he is going in a circle; I take the stick, and as if I am some spear hunter throw it at his spokes. I the wooden stick goes into the spokes and for about one second it rotates with the tire. It goes around until it gets caught between the spoke and the frame. Sending him flying over his handle bars. After seeing him hit the ground I realized that it was not good news for me. Before he even thought about getting up, I was gone. Running through the house, expecting him to come up from behind me. I make it into the living room where my grandma is watching T.V. I try to act calm and normal as I sit next to her. That's as far as the memory goes, but I don't think I got in trouble.

Then my mind goes to the time talking to him on the phone while he was at basic (or whatever it is called for the Air force), he was telling me about how hot it is in Texas. That one time he was outside and his boots started melting because it was so hot. It sounded a little fabricated but I didn't say anything because I can't prove him wrong, and he can't really prove himself right. He asks me if I know anything about Nebraska, and I remember how excited he got when I told him I'm pretty sure that it is cold there. After thinking about it I realize that was the very last time I would ever talk to him.

I want to break down, I want to just let it all out, but I can't. Not because I need to be strong, not because men don't cry. But for some reason I can't let any tears come. I've gotten so numb that I can't even cry about it.

My mind starts to race again, but this time not about memories. This time I am trying to figure out what happened. I start to think that maybe someone killed him, and did a really good job making it look like a suicide. Then I realize that he was in the military, and that maybe something happened, something out of a spy movie. They tell his family he is dead, so he can become some type of secret agent.

"You watch too many movies" I mumble to myself.

"What did you say, I didn't understand you." My mom asks me.

"Oh nothing, just thinking out loud." I say back. She doesn't bother asking if I am ok, she knows that she doesn't have to. I remember getting up this morning, and the false hopes of having a good time with my family.

"I should have stayed in bed." I think to myself.

Yes, that is a good lesson for all of us to learn.

We may end our pain by committing suicide, but we then sentence the ones we knew and loved to a lifetime of doubt and lamentation.
very good

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