MonochromeMind
Artist-ish
- Jan 26, 2026
- 65
I've only ever told this story to my parents, but I'm just getting everything off my chest because I feel I'm getting close to the end, hopefully. It's like I'm looking back at the beginning of my story before the end of it.
Years ago, I believed I had a brother that never existed. I've since convinced myself that the memories I have are fake, but they still feel incredibly real, even now, if I'm being honest.
His name was Greyson, and he was my older brother. His typical outfit was a leather jacket and jeans. He had black hair and blue eyes. He was kind of a jerk to people around him, but not to me. He truly did care about me. He had a friend named Skylar, who usually wore white, and had blonde hair and blue eyes. We often went to the mall together. He usually wore his motorcycle.
On the fourth of July one year, he got into an accident on his motorcycle. Whenever the fourth of July comes around, I hear the fireworks, and it hurts me, because I remember how upset I was when this apparently non-existent event occurred. I dread it every time. The anniversary effect for a non-existent event.
I told my parents once the caught me trying to kill myself, and they obviously dismissed it as me being delusional, and I just never brought it up after that. I still think about him, even if I tell myself he was never real. I miss him, I remember him, I fear driving because of him...even though he was apparently never real.
I don't really know, this is likely just fake memories from coping from loneliness or something. It hasn't been a problem in recent years. It's just weird how real it still feels. Idk.
Years ago, I believed I had a brother that never existed. I've since convinced myself that the memories I have are fake, but they still feel incredibly real, even now, if I'm being honest.
His name was Greyson, and he was my older brother. His typical outfit was a leather jacket and jeans. He had black hair and blue eyes. He was kind of a jerk to people around him, but not to me. He truly did care about me. He had a friend named Skylar, who usually wore white, and had blonde hair and blue eyes. We often went to the mall together. He usually wore his motorcycle.
On the fourth of July one year, he got into an accident on his motorcycle. Whenever the fourth of July comes around, I hear the fireworks, and it hurts me, because I remember how upset I was when this apparently non-existent event occurred. I dread it every time. The anniversary effect for a non-existent event.
I told my parents once the caught me trying to kill myself, and they obviously dismissed it as me being delusional, and I just never brought it up after that. I still think about him, even if I tell myself he was never real. I miss him, I remember him, I fear driving because of him...even though he was apparently never real.
I don't really know, this is likely just fake memories from coping from loneliness or something. It hasn't been a problem in recent years. It's just weird how real it still feels. Idk.