What in the malevolent world has happened to my best friend? Has the darkness of an incubus' shadow crept up on him and trapped him in a daily nightmare? Where once there was a smile, there is now chapped lips, and not so much as a frown. Where once there was a glint to his large eyes, there is now a red-eyed puffyness and a glaze one could find on a doll. Where once I saw a beautiful person radiating benevolence and potential, I now only see a blur; a fuzzy outline of a person you think is there, but you're not sure. This is what has become of him.

It used to be that I would be waiting in sadness for a time when we weren't talking. Now, I wait for a time when I feel confident that I am not going to be bothering him and that he may reply. The conversations certainly are less than satisfying. He responds shortly and quietly, not really taking any interest in what you're saying but feigning it anyway. Or perhaps he is too exhausted to care. His posture has worsened. His shoulders slump and his neck bends awkardly. His knees creak and ache. His back hurts, and tightens up. His chest racks with pain. His heart beats too fast and too hard. His lungs struggle for air. Help is not accepted. He does not want anything that could suggest one is trying to make him feel better - not from me anyway. My best friend wants only to feel the world squashing him flat, and for no one to pick it up off him.

How I wish I could do something to help him. I want nothing more than to take the weight off his shoulders, open the door to his cage, and let him escape. I will take his place in hell for him. He deserves to live more than me.

What in the malevolent world has happened to my big brother? Has he lost all breath and cannot so much as crawl to the light at the end of the tunnel? Do his muscles scream with pain when he tries to move? Is he too heavy to support himself? Can he not care anymore? Has my indestructible brother been destroyed and thrown into a conscious coma in which he can hear and see and smell and think but not be able to move and reach out to you verbally or physically or even metaphorically?

Hijo mio, why on Earth have you abandoned me? All my eggs have been placed into one basket, and it seems that basket has been dropped off a cliff with the hopes that the rough waters of depression won't be enough to crack the eggs. My big brother has appeared to have walked away without any basket, and I am left trying to hold my basket of other people's eggs - some are his - above my head while I tread water, trying desperately to recover my own. And he walks away from the cliff and into the desert of solitude. But walking into the desert of solitude is different than how most people get there. Most people are thrown or banished there, following some string of tragedies or poor decisions. My best friend? He walked into the desert of his own accord. I - along with everyone else this wonderful person is important to - am left with no details or reasons. I only catch glimpses of his life, and am building a castle of explanations out of twigs on a sandy California beach near the San Andreas fault.

What in the malevolent world has happened to my hero?