My Brother has joined the Army

D.J. is my little brother. He was born in 1986. In no particular order he has been a crackhead, a petty thief, a high school dropout, a schizophrenic, a pharmacy technician, a drug dealer, a visitor of prostitutes, a runaway, a grocery store clerk, a saxophonist, a competitive swimmer, an anorexic, and an illegal knives dealer. He has totaled four cars, been arrested for beating his father, been hospitalized with a collapsed lung and three broken ribs after a fight with his best friend, and institutionalized six times for hypomania...

Already an alcoholic at age 13, he tried to kiss me one night while my parents were out, and I have found naked pictures of myself in his drawers. When he was 15, he made wine in the basement and tried to sell it on the internet. At 16 he overdosed on diet pills and had his stomach pumped. At 17 he made counterfeit money and used it to buy an electronic safe. He kept drugs, guns, money, and letters from girls in it. A world traveler, he has visited England, France, Italy, Spain, Belgium, Croatia, the Czech Republic, China, Japan, Morocco, Puerto Rico, California, and Florida. He is 5’7” and his weight fluctuates between 120 and 250 pounds. He keeps diaries that read like promissory notes and police-station confessions. He is not a racist. He owns a few guns. He doesn’t believe in God but feels moved by the magic of reality and its grey areas. He showers twice daily and sleeps into the afternoons. One Thursday six weeks ago, he joined the Army. Shortly thereafter, he got on a plane and flew to Missouri where he began his nine weeks of basic training. These are his letters home…