Pain is an over-used word. It has lost its meaning and describing something as painful sounds infantile. But the truth is, pain is so much more than a feeling, or emotion. It's a new life-style, a condition, an incurable illness that wrecks you.
It comes for you, hunting you down and destroying your very essence when you are at your most vulnerable. It cuts you, and just when you think it can't hurt any more than this, I can assure you that you're wrong. Your wounds don't stop bleeding, and they stain you and your world and those in it. Your tears dissolve every attempt of comfort into a useless waste of words, and the edged, sharp splinters of your broken soul malignantly assemble into the highest, ugliest, harshest prison wall. You are encaged, and even your loved ones cannot tear through. You have never felt more alone despite being bombarded by people you once called your closest friends. They think they know you. They think you'll get better, return to normal in some time.
You won't.
They say that nothing heals like the magic of time. It acts as a medic for you scars, and with each moment that passes by, your scars will fade. They are lying. 
Every second away from the one that ripped you apart magnifies the heartache. Each second, minute, hour, day, and year. They pass as normal, as if nothing has changed. As if you haven't fallen to pieces. But you are too diseased. For you, everything has changed. 
Earth has stopped rotating on its axis. You no longer enjoy the warm kiss of sun on your skin, the once comforting patter of night rain on your window, sleep snatching you into blissful dreams, the soothing breeze that gently fans your face. You no longer have the right to feel that. You brought this on yourself.
Now you must only wallow in your own grief. Some days, you feel everything at once. Other days, you feel nothing at all. It’s unclear which is worse; drowning beneath the waves or dying from the thirst.
You are numb to others. All that remains now is the sting and overwhelming anger that floods your senses. Pain evolves into blinding fury. They left you here. They are gone, and you cannot fix yourself. Now all you are is collateral damage. You never wanted this. You never saw this coming and if there's anything you could do to fix this you would but there is absolutely nothing you can do. Its the end of you.
I tug at the bottom of the black dress to cover my poor knees from this awful December wind. It's too damn cold for this.
Auntie Edna and Mom and Dad and your girlfriend Ashley are huddled a few feet away from me, puffy eyes and all. A few of your waste-of-space friends actually bothered to show up to the service. Honestly, Jay. What were you thinking befriending these absolute morons? You're smart, and classic, and I'm sure these pansies are the type who flip off everyone for the sake of it till it loses its meaning, and the only thing they ever read is the back of a beer bottle. You're too good for them Jay.
They are burying you now. This funeral is black clothes, insincere words, a pack of lies to sugarcoat the truth, waxy faces, and false sympathy. Bullshit. Mom demanded a closed-casket because she couldn't bear to look at you again. It would break her. Honestly so overdramatic. You'd agree with me, for once.
There are way too many people here. How do you know all these people, Jay? We are complete opposites, you and I. I bet like three people would show up if I died. But you're a celebrity, aren't you? Personalities, looks, we share no resemblance whatsoever. Calling myself your sister sounds like the universe's version of a joke. And it's a bad one.
I blame your baby face. Blonde hair and blue eyed, you are quite the cherub. You are so good, so innocent, so pure. At least that's what they all think. Your laugh is unique, your mannerism flawless. You always say the right thing, unlike your foolish sister who now stands pathetically in the cold. If they knew the man lurking beneath that facade, they would be kicking dirt on your coffin with glee. 
I smile. Dear brother. For seventeen years, since the day I was born, you paid no attention to me. I admired you, because you were my blood. I will always love you, Jay. But you never loved me. You left with dad. I was three years old. Three years old, Jay. I was stuck with the monster I call my mother.
You got to live in luxury. Dad covered your ass through everything. Jay Buckley, a hero. A man. Smart, successful, responsible, desirable. Dad is so proud of you. The star child. The golden son. 
We all will miss you, brother. I long to see your face again. But that doesn't change the truth, does it?
The truth is bitter, my sweet Jay. 
You are a vile person. A bully, a coward.
You are a rapist Jay. 
I'm glad you're dead. I'll miss you, dear Jay. But I'm glad you're gone. I'm glad I didn't chicken out in the end. I'm glad I was there that night. I'm glad that you acted stupidly again, expecting me to clean up your shit, and got too drunk. I'm glad I was there to give you the slight push over the safety fence around the lake. I'm glad that it was too late in the night, and no one could hear your screams. You're no man. At least you died a dignified death. At least I saved you from the miserable cycle of life.
All the stupid prayers and mourning are finally over, and we are walking back to our cars. Finally. If I had to stand there for another second, I would have ripped my own hair out in frustration. It's so pointlessly exhausting. I skirt around the frosted leaves which cover the pathway. I turn a little and face a slightly older grave stone and smile a bright smile. I bend at the knees and place the bouquet of roses I bought on the ground, and I'm saddened by the six feet of earth that separates us. I miss her too terribly, but this is a triumphant occasion.
My eyes are glued to the gravestone, which has her name on in, not yours. It's ironic that the both of you were buried in the same yard. She shouldn't have to share this earth with you. Now I'm irritated.
I sigh deeply and turn back around as the grey clouds began to leak above me. The skies cry for Emily, not you Jay. Hell will be just as welcoming; it will embrace you with open arms. You'll feel right at home there.
I take one last look back at the graveyard before getting into the car.
Goodbye, brother. 
This was for Emily Ashton. My girlfriend, who you destroyed. You ruined her, Jay. You drove her to end her own life. Then you ran. You thought you got away with it. When did you become so stupid, brother?
The engine roars to life, and I press on the pedal. The rain washes away my sins. Not yours though, your list is too damn long.
Well. 
Karma's a bitch, isn't it?