Et tu Brute?

You cast your lot with the right people. At least those you perceive to be right at that point of time. Then, you strive. You strive and you struggle and you work your ass off trying to achieve one combined goal. Of course there were doubts, but you ignore that voice. You convince yourself, that nothing is going to affect this. Nothing will change, and this will last forever. Suddenly you realize. A certain lack of appreciation, a certain lack of brotherhood. By all means, you’re brothers and in so many ways you are a stranger. An outsider, included in a world of peers, who was taken in, but never really accepted. Still, they embrace you. They consider you a peer.

But never an equal.

You make mistakes. They make mistakes. Some on our own, many together. No one says anything. Then it happens. It starts small. No one notices as the cracks start forming. “It’s nothing. We’ll survive. All for one; one for all.” But the three musketeers’ were always four. He’s never remembered. Not as a musketeer. And then it comes back. One mistake, tears the whole world down. No gratitude. No affection. No respect.

Maybe I am d’Artagnan.

And you get cast aside. Sidelined. All the efforts, wasted. All the respect, destroyed. And nothing to show for it, except a fool’s endeavor at becoming something. Someone. Among friends. What friends.

They all told me this would happen. The dagger was poised, my back was exposed. But like Caesar, I ignored the warnings. I ignored it all. Blind in my faith, blinded by friends. How poetic that they be the ones to end it all. Et tu Brute?

You are my brothers,
My friends,
The memories,
Will stand by me.
You call me brother,
All my friends,
Their memories,
Will stand by me.

Wish we could have stood next to each other for a little longer. Too bad, guess I’ll survive. See ya when I see ya.