Posts tagged with "letters"

You’re my big bear

and that means you’d get a big bear hug the next time I see you, but they say you’ve shattered your rib cage, lost a pile of teeth, and broken every bone on the right side of your body, save the arm.

I’ve been there man. You know that. That’s why you know I’ll never judge you for what happened. You told me we could always talk cause you were once on the edge of the same blade, so you should have known the same, but you didn’t pick up when he said maybe there was a better chance you’d listen to me. All I could do was sit there, trying to keep calm, but expecting the next call to be about a body.

I should be angry. Not cause you didn’t call me to say goodbye before you took off, but because you hurt yourself and you’re my brother, and that means you hurt my family.

I can’t stay mad cause you’re conscious now, your vitals are stable, there’s no brain damage, and relief has surpassed anger. They say it’s mainly injuries to the bones and that bones heal, long as it may take.

Will I recognize you the next time I see you? Will I cry? Will you ever understand how scared I was? I can’t call cause the nurse needs to be by your side, and I can’t visit yet cause only immediate family are allowed for now. Otherwise, I’d be in a car, driving down there with a case of Blue ready for you when you’re out.

I don’t want to worry anymore. I want to see with my own eyes that you’re okay. I want you drunk at my wedding with your cap on backwards, screaming your ass off when I walk down the aisle. I want you at every New Year’s party, cause you’re one of the only reasons I go anymore. I want you to teach my kids how put someone in a proper choke-hold cause they should know how to take care of themselves, and you’re smart in all the ways I’m not.

We all need you as much as I do. That’s why you’re still alive, and that’s what I’m going to make you understand one day.

Sometimes I wonder if you’re bored like me.

Sitting at home on a random night, caught between the comfort of your room and the stimulation of people. You once told me I could always call when I said I didn’t want to be a hypocrite, but I don’t know if that’s true anymore. It’s been a while. I wonder if you ever think about me, and if you do, whether it’s with fondness, distaste, or indifference.

By now you’ve probably figured out that I can never be the one to pick up the phone first, which is why it’s hard for me to believe we’ll ever see each other again. I wish there was a way we could just talk, and not have things get complicated, and not have to worry about you or me or anything between us.

Sometimes I think I’m strong enough, but I think of that call and that voice and the burning across my skin, and eventually I realize I’m only fooling myself. Just making excuses to see you again cause I miss you so much. I’m not yet used to the fact that I can’t share these songs, these experiences, this happiness with you, and it’s left me feeling incomplete.

Even now it feels like there was so much left unsaid. Like my words were always inadequate to the burden of my heart cause I was never able to convince you of how special you were and how much I loved you. But time is teaching me that you knew, and that nothing would ever have been enough.

Not long ago, I realized it’s not just you I can’t stop thinking about, it’s all of my past, from insignificant instances to major events. If only you weren’t one of the only things worth remembering, and I wasn’t trying so desperately to forget.

You were supposed to be the rest of my life.

My happily ever after. My crunchy peanut butter soul mate.

I think of you every day, but it’s never a conscious act. More of a reflex in a continuous stream of thoughts: the cover of the album that’s playing, this tea is getting cold, maybe I’ll go out tomorrow, the way you looked the first time I saw you with your glasses on, I need to buy floss, the humidifier needs refilling…

It’s never something I can help. There are reminders of you in the colours of every sunrise, in the choruses of my songs, in the back of my mind when I’m left to my own devices. You became a habit I never wanted to break.

I forgot to give you this one too. It was supposed to be us. We were supposed to own the sky, to be it’s children, dancing under clouds you’d later paint. Sharing headphones on a bus, me in blue cardigan, you with fabulous hair. Walking to the grocery store on summer nights; you’d cook, I’d do the dishes. Catching up on each others days before drifting off to sleep. All the everyday stuff that would never feel ordinary again if your hand was in mine.

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.

I still think of you.

And how bright your hair was when you were recalling the terrible date you had last night. The guy wouldn’t stop putting himself down. “Someone’s insecure”, I said. You agreed. I only knew because I used to do the same thing (but I didn’t tell you that).

You wouldn’t stop biting your lower lip — how I wanted to stop that fidget with a kiss — and flipping that golden wave back over your head with clumsy little fingers.

As wrong as we were for each other, I still wanted to give it a try. To see what it would be like to sing with you in your car, even if you thought listening to rock gave you an edge cause you were such a girly-girl. To find out if you could ever love me as much as you love yourself.

I never asked you out cause I was too proud to make the first move. In this phase where I was tired of being the one to make the effort. Probably for the best. You’d never believe that I avoid you as much as you me. Did you ever tell him why you don’t come around anymore?

I still think of you. Then again, I think about pretty much everyone who’s been in my life from time to time, in some capacity.

You’re the only one I hate thinking of.