it's been a few years now of knowing i'm felix. i've worked through my feelings on just about everyone and everything. but without fail, the one thing i can't think about without being overwhelmed with feelings is my brother.
it's weird how grief doesn't go away or get smaller. weird how to this day in a different time and place i still have this same hole in my chest.
i feel so strongly about how the people around me responded to glenn's death, and frankly i still don't forgive some of them. i don't feel like i have to. i still believe it's bullshit to look at a senseless slaughter and call it honorable. spouting that kind of garbage only serves to get more kids willing to die.
but in the end, i don't know what glenn would have thought, and that sticks with me. he was my brother. he laughed with me and read me stories and beat me in every fight. he died in agony. what would he have thought of the things i said? would he have been proud of our father's words? ingrid's? how much did he hide from me? what life would he liked to have lived if he'd had the chance? how much of a choice did he ever really have?
none of it matters. the dead don't answer questions, so it's all stuff i tried to bury. but i loved him. i still love him. i wish he had all his chances. i wish i could see him again.
