I Miss The Little Whistle You'd Do To Get Someone's Attention. The Little Two Note High Low Whistle.

2 years

:(

I brought you a coffee with one cream. Just how you like it. From McDonald's, not Starbucks because I know you hate Starbucks and McDonald's is your favorite.

If there is an afterlife, I hope that leaving it here for you means you can enjoy it.

I miss you

Happy birthday.

Was told you talked to my sister a lot about how worried you were about me.

Somehow that didn't translate really well between you making fun of me and spending every holiday with her.

I wish I could give you a piece of my fucking mind right now.

Maybe I'll drive out to your grave and do that right now.

It really was that bad.

We really did hurt each other.

We said awful things to each other.

Why did we have to hurt each other?

Was my pride that important?

Was the house always being messy that bad?

Could we have compromised somewhere?

Yeah. We could have.

But we can’t anymore.

Because you’re gone.

And I’m all that’s left.

You can’t apologize to a grave.

I know he's gone.

I love with the ramifications of that every day.

But I often catch myself referring to him like he's still here.

It's not out of delusion.

It's just hard to turn almost three decades of "is" to "was"

And each one twists the knife.

Sophia Loren / Unknown / @ ojibwa / Adélia Prado / Unmade Bed by Sally Strand / Paul Auster / Unknown / Lucille Clifton / Unknown Artist / Kaveh Akbar / Unknown Artist / Marguerite Duras / Claude Monet

Aeschylus’ The Oresteia: Agamemnon (tr. Richmond Lattimore)

Please come back

Please

I miss you

How did you live through all that shit just to be brought down by this? It makes no fucking sense.

I still need you.

I just want to hear your voice again

Yell at me

Please yell at me

Because then at least you'd be breathing

You got hurt suddenly, fatally.

I had my nose in the newest Andy Weir book and I was obsessed with it. The moment I heard my brother stomp on the floor above me, his door fly open, and the sound of an ambulance over a speakerphone lives in my brain.

It won't ever leave, though I didn't know it at the time.

You got hurt... A lot.

Like chronically.

On the way out the door I grabbed my book.

I figured you'd be okay.

I planned on a late night in the hospital, letting my mom go home to sleep while the kept you for observation and, hey, I could read my book.

I never opened that book again.

I returned it to the library unfinished.