I am on a train, once again, as I always am. Last night I found out that your brother had died. Not āhasā died. Your brother had died just before we met and you never told me. Your brother had died just before we met and I never even knew you had a brother. And itās not that we never talked about the darker, heavier things - because every now and then, youād open up just an inch and reveal the soft, vulnerable flesh you usually kept sealed but before I had a chance to touch it or even properly look at it, youād snap yourself shut again. āEveryone would be better off without meā you said so matter-of-factly one afternoon and as soon as I disagreed, you got annoyed, as though I was trying to negate a universal truth. Itās been years since the last time we spoke but I still check on your every now and then, to make sure youāre still alive.
I think I understand you better now than I did back then. Your brother had died not even four months before we met and I canāt stop crying when I think about how you never talked about it, how none of your friends ever came to visit you, not even your dad. The day before the funeral you sent me photos of your mumās plants and I didnāt even know you had gone home for a funeral. The day we had our strange falling out, when you simultaneously tried to be as close to me and far away from me as possible, when I couldnāt figure out what was happening, was the first anniversary of his passing. The day we ran into each other again two years later and you were cold and smug was his birthday. And all along I had no clue at all. I always knew there was a sadness that seemed inherent to you, inextricably entangled with who you are, but I assumed it was because of everything else. I never knew your younger brother, didnāt even know he had existed until yesterday and now I canāt stop crying for him and for you. I am on a train once again and as much as I hate crying in public, crying in front of anyone, I keep crying for you.
blakekathryn
2087
snowghoul
discoholicmusic
titsay
