So I heard from my so-called brother today—for the first time in months.

Yeah, that brother. The one who basically disowned me over politics. Imagine that: growing up together, sharing holidays, memories, inside jokes—and then boom, it’s all gone because we don’t agree on some talking heads and red vs. blue nonsense. Unreal.

It was a weird moment getting a message from him. Part of me thought, “Maybe he’s come around. Maybe he wants to talk like adults.” But no. Same tunnel-vision, one-way, close-minded ranting. Just like before. You know the type—it’s his way or you’re automatically wrong, evil, or brainwashed. No room for conversation. No middle ground.

I used to feel sorry for him. Like really sorry. I’d defend him to others, say he was just “passionate” or “misguided.” But after some of the things he said to me, especially toward the end of our last argument, I can’t make excuses anymore. Some words hit different when they come from someone who’s supposed to have your back—especially family.

Forgiveness? That’d take a hell of a lot more than just a text message and a stubborn attitude. I’m not sitting around waiting for that.

So, I’m moving on. I’ve got a good life, a wife who actually listens, dogs who don’t care who I voted for, and enough real problems without adding his drama back into the mix. If he wants to keep living in his angry echo chamber, that’s on him. But me? I’m out. I’ve got better things to focus on than trying to fix what he refuses to see.

Family doesn’t always mean forever. Sometimes, it just means “used to be.” And honestly, I’m good with that.