Just the Two of Us
A while back, I shared what was probably the second worst day of my
life. It was the betrayal of my brother.
Sometimes when I think back to the whole situation I think maybe I'm
over-analyzing or exaggerating a bit. But I remember how I felt. If I
had to describe the pain, I'd say it was like he took a brick & used all
his strength & aimed perfectly at my heart. & the impact still hurts
me.
Sometimes I feel like I feel too much. Type: gargantuan Green Mile man.
Like I'm not supposed to still care. Like this weight is too much. I
can't go on carrying the burden. But I can't stop now. But. Why not?
It's just the way I was made. I have a strong feeling that one of these
days I'm going to surprise myself. Like when many don't know their own
strength. Something drastic will occur. I just know.
In many situations, I know why I still care. I have my reasons. & for
this particular betrayal I haven't stopped caring about him. In fact
every time I see him, my love grows a bit more for him. For 16yrs it was
just him & I.
& though I don't remember spending any time with him his first 5yrs of
life..
& though we fought for the 3yrs after that..
Everything changed when I was 12. He was 8 & sleep at night. I had a
tendency of staring at him as he slept for about 4yrs now. & this was
the first night I didn't have thoughts of hate for him. Thoughts of
killing him weren't running through my mind. Not anymore. I was going to
take care of him. As best I could. Whenever he needed me, he could count
on me.
& so it was decided.
& we've gotten along quite well since then. Complete 180° I'd say
compared to the physical/verbal abuse we put each other through.
I even recall him being mean & noticing that I wasn't punching his
throat anymore. Or calling him bad names. & as confused as he was, he
eventually was on my team.
Which is why that night stays on my mind. That night he told me what
I've done, what I've said or want to say doesn't & hasn't mattered.
If you've ever genuinely loved someone & done a lot for them, you'll
know that their words hurt. As much as you try to tell yourself that you
don't care, fuck 'em, their loss, oh well..
(Their) Words hurt.
Watch what you say. Especially to me.
My feelings can be exuberantly reserved & my actions can display a
heartless bitch. Trust.
They commend me for not being able to know how I feel unless they ask.
Yep. They. Ask about me.
Actually, don't. I owe some people money.
Shouts to the small world.
*picture displayed: Carlos & I as youngstas.
