The beginning of the end was on my brother Blueprint's 10th birthday. This was when Outer gave him a mini castle. When Blueprint disappeared all he left behind was a room full of Paintings.

I hop through the window since the door had been sealed by my mother. To see Blueprints room... It had been ages, color everywhere. Next to his memorial was a flipbook. Flipping through it I could see an animated story of Blueprint drawing a door with a magic paintbrush. He opens the door and goes through disappearing.

I sketch a drawing of Blueprint. I missed him dearly. I was 11 when he disappeared...

Mom spent months searching for my brother... Then he sealed the doors. Whatever Blueprint had found in the house... Mom didn't want it getting out.

Mom blamed Outer, but I think Pj blamed himself. After Pj graduated he spent more and more time in his room. well, until mom got him a job at the cannery. Everyone told me to stay out of Pj's room... Except for Pj. Entering his room it smelt very, very familiar. That part of him lived on. Pj and I spent a lot of time playing video games together. He was surprisingly bad at them.

Near Pj's memorial was a letter from his therapist. I could hear her...

"Dear Mr. Ink,

As Pj's Psychiatrist, I can understand your desire for explanation. As I can see it, the trouble began in January, shortly after we convinced your son to seek treatment for substance abuse.

Newly sober, I believe Pj began to see the monotony of his life. He kept working at the cannery... But he withdrew part of himself. In our sessions, I saw the same behavior. His mind began to... Wander.

I asked him to describe it. He said he started small. Imagining a labyrinth. He'd feel his way about. Then something moved, bats... and toads... and things that have not names. He knew it was all in his head but took it all very seriously. I had hoped he'd find himself but, he found something more. I worried about him then, daydreaming at the cannery. I spoke with his boss but he'd said that Pj had become a model employee. Methodical, tireless, Focused... Like a whole new Pj. So I let him go on. I even encouraged him...

It was grand at first... He told me he even made a new friend. It was on the edge of a city he named PjTopia. He built the city up slowly, brick by brick. Then he made musicians and songs for them to play. He talked about starting a band. He was always humming something. Every day his imagination grew stronger. He no longer spoke at the cannery but his chopping was reliable as ever. Then one day it hit him... all the cheering crowds, even the stones under his feet were all apart of his imagination. So he could do whatever he wanted. He held an election for mayor and he won. They begged him to stay but his mind had already started to wander.

It became a game to him. He'd conquer a city then immediately move on. He started drifting away from our reality.

One day... He forgot to go home from the cannery. Even though his mother pleaded with him his mind kept sailing on. In a land, Pj had heard of a beautiful prince. He was on a quest for radiant rainbows. He followed the sound of his silver harp. His chase led him to a golden palace east of the sun west of the moon. Even then, his logic remained sound. He knew the world was in his imagination but he was proud of having created it. In his own eyes, he had become something greater than a king. For someone who never felt success in the real world, I think it was overwhelming.

Soon it struck him that the real Pj was not the one chopping salmon, but the one climbing the steps of the golden palace. "my imagination is as real as my body" He told me. It was hard to argue with him. He began to forget the world we know. I think it pained him to remember Pj, the cannery worker. He began to despise the man with a royal contempt.

I still thought I could save him. Even after he said he was being crowned king over all the lands of wonder. The palace would be packed with all of his companions, Including the wise calico who had insisted on advising him. His king waited holding his crown. There was only one thing left to do. Bend down his head...

And the rest I think you know...

Mr. Ink, your son was a kind man who will be missed by all of us who knew him"

I sketch Pj in my journal.

My brother was really cool...

I wish you could have met him...