“I’ve been giving out chances and every time I do you let me down” is from a song by Taylor Swift. Sometimes, people seemingly break a promise and you give them a second chance. When I was younger, I did not give out second chances easily. But now from my experiences, I have learned a few things along the way. No one should ever hold a grudge because it only does more harm than good. You never know what someone else is going through at the time of frustration. Moreover, second chances are something that is needed. You must be open to fix the past that still haunts you.

My view on second chances comes from someone close to me: my brother. My brother is twenty four and working a full time job, living in a home with a girl friend of three years. This seems quite normal for most people, but for him this would never be possible. In the year 2004, I was only in sixth grade. I was learning long division and sitting at a little desk with crayons, pencils and markers. Simplistic and beautiful this time would be for many young sixth graders, but for my journey, it was not. When I walked out the door into the brisk fall air with my back pack to the yellow bus, I left the demons of my home life at the steps. Not only was I tormented with the idea that my brother would slip through my finger tips, I lacked the knowledge to save him.

Typically, high school students are studying on the week days and working on the weekends. My brother did not fit this stereotypical mold. His life spiraled out of control when he was seventeen, getting into the wrong crowd and experimenting with hard narcotics. Being twelve years old, I did not know why my brother was experimenting with these drugs. I was furious about what it did to my family, and I did not think about giving him a second chance. My mind wandered around the ideas of “Look what Greg is doing to this family” or even “Why is this happening?” But in reality, life doesn’t come with an easy button. Sometimes, it has to get worse before it gets better.

And it did.

I was in a deep slumber that night in 2004 when my brother attempted suicide. I was dreaming and not a single thing woke me up that Friday night. As I awoke from the dream, I stepped onto the carpet, yawning and looking at my drawing of ballerinas that I was extremely proud of. Nothing was odd about this day, or confusing. I smelt the bacon and eggs sizzling in the frying pan, my parents chatting away about the news and politics. What I didn’t know was that this seemingly easy day would change the lives of my family forever.

As I tip toed out of my bedroom, I noticed my brother. He was nonchalantly sitting at the computer with a black hooded sweat shirt. The first indication that something was wrong was that the hood was up. “Why would he be wearing that big jacket when it’s 60 degrees outside?” I asked myself. But, I acted like nothing fazed me and walked into the living room. My mom casually asked me to get soda that was placed in the room my brother was in. I walked to that room in silence, as my brother was walking out the door. I bumped into him and looked at his face: dark, freckly, red.

I could not believe my eyes. I screamed “Mom! Greg is sick!” I ran to get any cleaning item I could find because I was scared that I would get infected with some disease that no one could cure. Unbeknownst to my younger self, my brother did have a disease that could not be seen by the naked eye. He wore the best mask in town that suddenly faded at three AM that night. While I was dreaming, he was weeping. While I was sound asleep, his life was dangling from a rope.

Through this time period, my brother had many ups and downs with his life. Thankfully, he got the help he needed, but it then went downhill again. I was giving him a third chance to prove to me that everything would be okay again. Out from the hospital, he left home because of a restraining order I had to file, and he became homeless and desperate. But through this, a light bulb switched in his mind. He needed to fix himself before I could ever see him again. Months past as I was sitting in my mother’s car at a stop light seeing him in the streets looking through garbage cans. But, I finally realized that I needed to give out more chances. He called from a pay phone to my mother, and I was not supposed to speak to him but I did. I let my guard down that I put up for the world, and gave a fourth chance out. Now seven years later, my brother and I have a great relationship. It was only because I broke my own walls down and gave another chance.

Through giving out a second, third and fourth chance to my brother, it impacted my life in an extremely positive manner. Sometimes, it takes someone close to you to make you realize something; life is easy when you break the chains you put over your heart. Thus, my experiences only shaped me into a better person than I could ever be. The most negative experiences can become the most positive ones.