The Art of Letting Go

I knew my time was up when I lay dying, alone and forgotten in the cold, damp basement of that psych ward.

While I was fading away, my parents were basking in the bright lights of a fancy gallery, throwing a huge opening night party for my little brother’s art show.

And my girlfriend? She was right there, clapping and cheering him on.

This should have been my night, my recognition. Every single painting in that gallery was a piece of my heart and soul, poured onto canvas.

But now, they were all his.

My brother and I had been in competition our whole lives, and in the end, I lost everything.

Then I woke up again, and this time, I decided to quit the rat race.

This time, I'm only living for myself.

Gotta love myself first.

1.

“Ethan, honey, your brother, Mikey, he’s…not as strong as you. Art and school? Those things come so easy to you, you could get into any top college. So, about that painting you won the award for…”

Mom’s voice trailed off, but I could see her glance at Mikey, who was standing there looking like he might burst into tears.

She might as well just say it.

“Do you think, maybe you could let Mikey have that painting? It would really help him get into art school.”

Give my painting to Mikey?

I tried to wrap my head around what she was saying. The feeling of being utterly alone in that cold, dark basement, the chill of death, it was still burned into my bones.

Then it hit me – I’d been given a second chance.

I’d woken up, back in senior year of high school.

I still had time.

My dad, standing next to Mikey, got impatient with my silence, and snapped, "Ethan, you're the older brother. Can you stop being so selfish? What's the big deal about letting your brother have your painting?"

"If your brother wasn't dealing with his health issues, you think he’d need your stupid painting? He'd be way more successful than you, anyway."

"Look, you're giving it up, whether you like it or not."

Last time around, they'd said the same thing.

They wanted me to give that award-winning painting to Mikey.

I was furious, and I flat-out refused.

But behind my back, through some underhanded deal, the painting ended up with Mikey’s name on it.

The national award that guaranteed a spot in a good art program? That went to Mikey, no questions asked.

And they didn't even bother to tell me about it.

I was sitting at home, thinking my college acceptance was a sure thing. I waited three months and then… missed the application deadline.

Later, when I asked why they did it, they brushed it off, saying, "Oh, didn't we tell you? We've just been so busy with Mikey's acceptance stuff, I guess we forgot."

They didn’t forget.

They didn’t want me making a scene and messing up their golden boy's big break.

So, I had to repeat my senior year.

When I finally got into college, Mikey was in trouble again.

He had zero talent for art, and at his art school, he failed eight courses. He was about to get kicked out.

So, my parents came to me again, askin...