False Light in the Dark

I loved my Brother. I still do, I'm sure anyone who remembers him thinks of him with love. I might be biased seeing as how I only had four years to make this judgment. I only have two memories of him. One of which he was simply tying his shoes on a pedestal. The other one however, I will carry to my grave.
I remember sitting with my Billy on a big comfy blue couch made of velour sitting in front of a T.V. screen playing video games. We were playing a Spider-Man video game, and due to the fact that I was four at the time, I wasn't very good at it. I became frustrated at times, noting that no matter how hard I tried, I wouldn't be able to defeat the villains. Seeing me being overtaken by emotions, Billy took the controller from me and gave me another one that was unplugged. We played the game as if he were all the bad guys and I were the Spider-Man. In reality he was the only one playing, but to me I was finally able to beat the game and even do better than my big brother. Looking back at this, it just makes me so happy that he went out of his way to make me smile and laugh.
After his death however, there wasn't a lot of smiling going around in my house. Before his death, Billy, my other brother Matt, and I would be outside all the time or making small videos and always laughing. After he died, there was just no motivation to do anything. At first there was hysterical crying, which, believe it or not, was the easy part. Because after everyone was cried out, all that was left were these broken emotionless faces just barley making it through life. At least that's how it was in my family.
Seeing this, I knew I had to try to make them smile, I had to stop them from basically being dead inside. So I became a shit ton more happy. I always smiled and I always asked my mom for hugs; she was the worst off. But conflicting enough, I also became a lot more sensitive, always crying whenever something went wrong. Not even necessarily in my life, but also whenever someone else started to cry, I just couldn't help myself and I balled along side them.  And I feel like this was my way of dealing with having to be happy all the time. Instead of being real with every one and actually expressing what was going through my head, I cried out all my feelings in short bursts that meant nothing. And in the long run, this didn't help me in the slightest. 
Now, as teenager, I find myself unable to get rid of some of these behaviors. I'm still always putting on this fake ass visage of happiness in order to get rid of my actual thoughts. The only person who was able to get through my mask and tell me what I needed to hear was my boyfriend, and now that he left I find myself reverting back to those same old behaviors (But that's a different story).
The only thing I have left to hold on to now are the love and support of friends and the memory of the best place in the world. That comfy blue valor couch with my brother by my side playing Spider-Man.