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aerodynamiccheekbones replied to your post:aerodynamiccheekbones replied to your post: Read...
tbh ily and you’re gr9 ;) <3 and anyone who makes you feel like crap deserves a fork to the intestines.
awww <3
but no it's not their fault, they're not doing it intentionally. it's just that everybody else has made better friends with each other and i'm just kinda...there.
i'm just being stupid really.
aerodynamiccheekbones replied to your post: Read More →Read More Now!
i think you’re a cute cutie tbh <3
tbh ily and you're great <3
✚
Send me some!
Send ✚ for one of my muse’s prized possessions.
His first spell book.
slides a "Dear Brother" your way
Send me a "Dear ---" and I will write my honest feelings to them.
Dear Stiles,
I know I told you before that you're not my brother. That's not true, though. I'm not your brother. I'm sorry we look exactly the same, because that means you're always going to be associated with me, and I don't want that. Not because I don't want to be linked to you, but I don't want you to be linked to me.
I'm cruel and dishonest and not even worth the trouble. I'm sorry that I left you when you needed me. I'm sorry that we're strangers now.
I could keep apologizing, but...I think the time for that is past, don't you?
Always,
Stuart
argxntt
[ Yes-- she is staring at them---intensely ]
aerodynamiccheekbones said:DID YOU WANT MORE? cause i was gonna send you a dear brother one too
gO AHEAD
aerodynamiccheekbones said:*sheds tiny manly tear* |: ow yes good here let me just bury myself in happiness for a little while.
you sent me the thing so BLAME YOURSELF
"Dear Mom"
Send me a "Dear ---" and I will write my honest feelings to them.
Dear Mom,
Can I even call you that anymore? I don't really call Dad 'Dad', and I rarely ever refer to Stiles as my brother. So, I don't know why I'd get to call you Mom. Maybe I should start again.
Dear Claudia,
I know I'm not what you would have expected from either of your sons. I know I'm not exactly the ideal child. I'm cruel because it's easier than being kind, and I like hearing about people's problems more than I do their happiness, if I have to hear about them at all. I'm more trouble than I'm worth, for anyone.
I don't remember you that much anymore, and that scares me. Sometimes, I try to remember your smile or the way you smelled, and I can't. I can't remember the little things, like the way your voice sounded and the earrings you'd always wear. I don't remember all the different shades of brown in your eyes, and I can't for the life of me remember what your hugs felt like.
And it terrifies me. I'm scared that one day, I'm going to try to think back to you, and I won't remember anything except your name. I don't want that to happen. I don't want to forget you, I want to always remember you. I don't want to see pictures of you with Stiles and I and work to remember the simplest things about you. I want to always remember you the way you were, before you were diagnosed. Before I became such a fuck up.
I never want to forget you as you were, when you were completely whole. But instead, all I can remember is sitting next to you and having to tell you my name. Having to watch as you deteriorated into nothingness, and you couldn't remember anything anymore. And even that I don't remember much anymore, because that's when I decided that I didn't care.
Can I tell you a secret?
I did care. I still do. I care too much, so much it hurts, and sometimes it feels like I can't breathe. I'm sorry I didn't know how to show it properly, and thought that shoving it all back would be better. I'm sorry that whatever shreds of you still remained when you died didn't know that I loved you. I still do.
I'm sorry. It's because of you that I'm the person I am today. I'm not blaming you, though. And it's okay if you're looking down on me and you hate me and everything I've become. It's okay because I hate me too.
But I'm stronger than I would have been if I'd let grief crumble me or if you'd stayed alive. And I have more life experience than most people my age, and I'm better at handling distressing situations.
I still hate me, and I think that Stiles does, too. I think everyone does. But I can't hate every little part of who I am, because even though the overall is disappointing and worthless, there are a few good parts scattered around.
I'm sorry. I wish I'd told you I loved you before it got so bad you couldn't remember me. I wish I would have gone to your funeral. I wish you were still alive. Maybe if I wish hard enough, they could have you back, and I could be the one to leave.
Don't you think they'd like that more? I'm almost positive they'd rather have you than me. I don't blame them.
I love you. I'm sorry. I wish I wasn't such a fuck up and that you could be proud of me.
Always,
Oisin
