yo me preocupo.

I'm worried. I'm worried about my brother, whom I've found out is, or has become, a huge partier. I'm worried about how much he's drinking, I'm worried that he's fifteen, I'm worried that his friends are why he's doing it, and most of all, I'm worried because he never told me. I'm worried that we've grown so far apart that we can't even talk about stuff like this.

I talk about stuff like this. Or, rather, I would if I drank. I guess... I mean, I always knew we ran in different circles, but I never imagined he'd be doing stuff like this, and right under my mother and father's noses.

And they were so strict and so worry-wort-y with me. And now, now they think they're being just as strict, but they obviously aren't. Something's going on here.

Por favor, Dios mio, dame la fuerte. And the wisdom, whatever the Spanish word for that is.

I need to know what to do.