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My brother, Tom, passed away less than a month ago.

Don't ever ask me why, because I don't know. He never told me why he did it.

And no, I didn't see it coming.

I didn't see the way he was slowly deteriorating from the inside out. I didn't see how much this illness was hurting him. I don't mean physically. Emotionally. It was hurting him to see us, his family and friends, so sad.

If there was one thing that he loved more than that damn camera, it was people. Tom always looked for the good in people instead of the bad.

He was a good person in general. He was the gentle, kind and lovely Sykes boy. I'm just Oliver.

That's why it bothered me so much when people would ask why he did it. Why he would put a bullet in his brain.

It wasn't the fact that people were curious that bothered me. It bothered me that they didn't generally care about Tom.

It was always the people who didn't even know who Tom was before the announcement.

The Sykes Boy.Donde viven las historias. Descúbrelo ahora