I'm Bendix.
We're twins. Well, triplets, but Brieta doesn't...she died.
Leukaemia...
Which is what I have now.
We decided to share this journal for future ...stuff...
Yeah, stuff.
Stuff is a good enough word.
Most people wouldn't guess us as twins.
No, I'm skinny and brunette and punky, and he's a nerdy, fatty blond. We both have the same hazel eyes though.
Our mum's hazel eyes. Like gold, they are.
Our best feature.
We have a little sister too. Alithia. Darling.
Bit of a slut.
Bally!
It's true! She always wears those slut clothes and sleeps with boys and then claims she's eternally faithful to that David bloke. Don't know who she thinks she's fooling.
Be nice, please. This isn't even about her. It's for future generations, from us, about us, so any future kids of ours will know who we were.
I'm not having kids.
You might do.
Bendix, I am dying after this year, I'm not going to raise any babies in that time.
...I have a girlfriend at the moment, named Rachie.
My girl's called Mysti. She's a babe.
Mine's an absolute darling.
She likes when I make her flower crowns.
Bally isn't that much of a punk. He loves making flower jewellery and he's camp as hell.
Shut up.
You are though.
I'm also awesome.
Most people at school think he's gay.
They think you're gay too, don't act so smug.
Benny's asleep now. I can't sleep because it hurts too much (apologies for any wet splotches on the paper, it really does hurt and I can't turn the light on without waking the others up, so I can't get my painkillers.) so I will talk.
My full name is Balthasar Dalton Grayson Johnnie Milan Gammaleil if you ever want to look me up. Ben's is Bendix Graham Geoffrey Finn Tariq Gammaleil. Those names aren't going to change, so you enjoy their weird, slightly toxic splendour. So let me tell you a bit about myself.
I am the son of Taryn Gammaleil and some unknown guy who we think has brown hair, because mum is ginger, like Alithia. We were born when mummy was 16, but conceived a year earlier. Yeah, it lasted over new years, I mean. She gave birth to three babies. Big, fat Benny was first, then slender, fabulous me, and finally our sister, Brieta. I don't remember much about Brieta, because she died when we were two, and Alithia was one. Mum was really cut up about it. Like, really cut up. Like, proper howling tears.
She treated us all extra well for a while, just showering us with love. It was back to two boys and one girl. And I started loving the love and wanting all the pretty girly things that Ally got, and in the end mum got so sick of me fighting her for Barbie dolls and jewellery makers that she bought me some of my own, and I was elated. Hey, it's not like it's damaging. I turned out alright, and girl toys didn't turn me gay. I'm in a very happy relationship...with the girl who's always scared because she knows I'm dying...
Thing is, watching Brieta gradually worsen despite treatment, watching the treatment make her worse, it effected mum so badly...I remembered her face and I remembered that photo in her room of a little bald girl, sleeping, but looking already dead. So when the doctor came back to us, solemn faced and grey, and said 'Balthasar, it's bad news, I'm afraid you have Leukaemia' I stood up and said 'I refuse treatment'.
I really wish he'd never said that. At least with treatment he'd have had a chance. Yes, he feels his hair is a huge part of who he is,
I get awfully tearful thinking about this, because I've known Bally all our lives, and hhe's been one of my best friends
God, sorry for all the
Dear diary, I have a bucket list. I will cross out each one as I manage it.
Get on TV
Go sky diving
Go deep sea diving
Win a nobel prize
Travel
RIDE A HORSE!!!
Climb a mountain
Hot air balloon
Dance barefoot in the rain
See the northern lights
See an eclipse
Grow a tree from scratch
Biggest party ever
Get drunk off wine
Play violin
Learn salsa dance
Learn Muay Thai
Road trip
Swim with dolphins
Learn to knit
Make a shit tonne of origami cranes for people
See Japanese cheerrry blossoms.
Hit a bullseye
See a volcano
Fly in a helicopter
Meet a celebrity
Those are my plans and it's going to be perfect. I'm going to do each and every one of those things (although obviously I have to do some when I'm not at boarding school )
He's never going to manage it all. Without treatment he won't even last to the end of the year.
Oh my god, nobody ever told me what sex was like. It was so awkward and weird and it didn't even last long, and I think she just found it painful, but at the same time it was like...the best thing ever...
Can you not fill this book with awkward porn?
You're just sour because you're too fat for people to want to fuck.
You may be dying but that doesn't mean I won't jump you and beat the ever loving crap out of you.
I'm thinking, anything Bally doesn't manage on that list, I'll do in his honour.
Benny's so sweet. I hope he's able to be there for the others when this is over.
Our little Ally just had a baby, by the way...she's 16...but yeah, so I got to hold that infant too!
Bally's started getting symptoms that show the cancer's spread to his spine and brain. Headaches, seizures, confusion...it's getting so scary.
My girlfriend's boobs have gotten bigger.
...He's a charming one, but like I said, confused.
No, they really have! Like, what if she's pregnant? I mean, we've had it off a few times, totally uninterrupted, she's not had a period in ages and her boobs are bigger.
We've been silent in this thing for quite a while-not that it will show. every time it's more than a day past, we just start a new paragraph.
It's been a month. I woke up this morning and the air felt really thick and cold. I sat up and grabbed my glasses and the boys I shared a dormitory with were crowded around my brother's bed. I started crying before I even understood. He got up, went over and pushed through, and this boy, Raphael, he has the bed next to Bally's, tried to tell me before I put my hand to his face. It was cool, but not cold. He was a bit stiff, but not very. Felix went to get a teacher. He died in his sleep, peacefully I assume.
It was a stroke that took him in the end. A stroke of all things.
I saw Mysti in the hospital wing today. I'd broken a wrist playing rrugby, trying to get my mind clear, and there she was, bandaged up and looking sick and in tears. I went to talk to her and she dropped the bombshell. If you, my nephew or niece, are holding this book, Balthasar was right. A few cheap rounds with his girlfriend and she was expecting.
I don't want to write in this any more. It hurts too much because I see Bally's writing. I'm helping Mysti with her problems. I can't do much for Raphael and Felix, who slept beside Bally every night and who were first to find him gone. He'd have liked this. He'd have loved his child if he ever met it, I'm sure. I don't know if it will be a boy or girl yet. It might even be a twin. I would love it if it were mine.
She had a son. She named him Balthasar, after his biological father.
Monday, I found a copy of Bally's will. I'll stick it in.
The last will and testament of Balthasar Dalton Grayson Johnnie Milan Gammaleil.
This is the fiinal wishes of the above mentioned on the occasion of his death.
To my mother, Taryn Gammaleil, I leave my love, and ever photo of me and my siblings I own.
To my brother, Bendix, I leave my money (£7:63 in cash) and the puppy he bought me for my last birthday.
For my baby sister, Alithia, and all her five kids, I leave £7.63 from my bank account, and the following toys: White and brown chubby dog, blonde doll, lamb, teddy with pink ribbon, everything in that box in the attic...that junk.
To my love, Mysti, I leave the remaining £18.63 in my bank account and a collection of baby books I keep in my room, and all my jewellery, rings, bracelets, piercings and all.
To Felix and Ellis, my best friends, I leave all the alcohol under my bed, and my pack of morphine, and all my zombie apocalypse books.
All my remaining toys go to any future infant relatives I may have. I'm sure they'll love the bunnies and the birdies and the dinosaurs and dollies and whatnot. That's any future kids of Ali's or Ben's.
Sighnd: Balthasar D. Gammaleil.
Life is an interesting venture. You're born just to struggle through a 'life' made meaningless by society and government, and then you die. I don't really understand it. There isn't a point to anyone's life. We're all just lambs to the slaughter. So here I am, stood at a grave, just...crying. My brother was a real romantic when he was alive. He gave his girlfriend gold-plated roses, so they wouldn't wilt away. He would do just about anything to make her feel loved. I don't have that talent. I'm awkward around girls, and unattractive, and overweight, and when I'm with my girlfriend I never know how to act because in all my years, she's my first and I'm worried I'll fuck it up. In the end that worry's been my downfall. I'm not confident and Rachie broke up with me...I finish school this year and now all I have to struggle on for are my nephews and nieces and I hate it.
Update. Rachie thought I was cheating on her because I was helping Mysti with my nephew. That is just fucking disgusting. She's effectively my sister for god's sake! I still really like Rachie though, but this is just...she seems to think any time I speak to another girl, I'm secretly fucking her. I'm not sure if it's worth staying in this relationship or not.
Update. I decided not.
Every weekend I'm at my brother's grave, telling this junk to thin air as though Bally himself were here, listening to every word I said with that same mocking smirk he always wore. I wish I could hear him making comments. I wish he was here.
I miss him. I'm no good at dealing with death. I can hide my emotion until I'm alone and in private though. I guess that's my only real talent.
You're never truly alone. I'm here for you, always.
Bally sr.
PS, miss you too, Benny.
No comments:
Post a Comment