I don’t even know where to start. My brother got arrested last night. Not for some dumb mistake, not for being at the wrong place at the wrong time, but for stealing. A thief. That word feels like it’s burning in my chest every time I think about it. The shame is unbearable. The cops showed up at my parents’ house and everyone in the neighborhood saw. My mom broke down crying on the porch, and I just stood there frozen, watching them put handcuffs on someone I grew up with, someone I shared a room with, someone I trusted. What hurts the most isn’t just what he did, it’s what it means. It feels like the family name has been dragged through the mud. People I’ve known my whole life won’t look me in the eye. I keep thinking about every holiday, every laugh we had, and now I wonder if it was all fake — if he’s been this person all along and I was too blind to see it.

Also I feel so conflicted. Part of me wants to hate him for ruining everything, for humiliating us, for being so selfish. But another part of me just aches because he’s my brother and I still love him. I keep asking myself: where did I go wrong? Could I have stopped him? Why didn’t I notice the signs sooner?
I feel angry, ashamed, heartbroken, and weirdly guilty all at the same time. Like his mistake somehow belongs to me too.