I forgot....
I've forgotten so many things. A few nights ago, I looked through this journal from mid-2005 right through to August 2006. There were things I remembered, of course, and there were things I didn't remember. It seemed sort of strange, like being a voyeur on my own history. It wasn't depressing, at least not when I did it. And I didn't do it with the intent of reminding myself of the emotions. In some ways, I sort of miss those days. But they're gone, and in almost all ways, I hope they never, ever, ever return.
Right now I'm listening to Sigur Ros (Takk), and remembering my brother gushing about them. He was the one who first gave me the album "()". He saw them once, live, and didn't stop talking about them for a week. How atmospheric it was, how artsy it was and not even like a concert as much as a poetry reading set to music, how one of the musicians was extremely picky about which bow he used and kept switching.
I haven't walked down the street his house is on since ... well. Since he died.
I sort of (really, really) miss him, too. I miss how he always said he'd go walking with me, and barely ever did, but we'd sit and talk forever and ever. I miss his nature, how gentle and kind and sweet he was. I miss him.... It's been nearly two years-- 28 May 2007. And he's gone. And in a few ways, I'm glad. He hurt and suffered so much, and just wanted other people happy. And I know what it's like to wish it could all be over (but now it is....).
I've healed, but there are still scars. My wrist is still literally striped with scars from four years ago. My mind is still metaphorically scarred (though I don't think they lie in mostly-neat stripes). My family is too, of course.
I've healed, though. I miss those days, and I miss my brother, but it's a vague kind of missing, not painful, like a piece of my heart got removed, anymore. I have a non-frivolous and very-loving-and-loved boyfriend; he buoys me up and balances me out and gives me someone to hold on to -- and I do my best to buoy and balance him, and let him hold to me. I have two sisters (whom I'm a bit closer to now). I'm in uni, though suffering through it more than I'd like (freshman year is always hard).
And... everything's all right.
Right now I'm listening to Sigur Ros (Takk), and remembering my brother gushing about them. He was the one who first gave me the album "()". He saw them once, live, and didn't stop talking about them for a week. How atmospheric it was, how artsy it was and not even like a concert as much as a poetry reading set to music, how one of the musicians was extremely picky about which bow he used and kept switching.
I haven't walked down the street his house is on since ... well. Since he died.
I sort of (really, really) miss him, too. I miss how he always said he'd go walking with me, and barely ever did, but we'd sit and talk forever and ever. I miss his nature, how gentle and kind and sweet he was. I miss him.... It's been nearly two years-- 28 May 2007. And he's gone. And in a few ways, I'm glad. He hurt and suffered so much, and just wanted other people happy. And I know what it's like to wish it could all be over (but now it is....).
I've healed, but there are still scars. My wrist is still literally striped with scars from four years ago. My mind is still metaphorically scarred (though I don't think they lie in mostly-neat stripes). My family is too, of course.
I've healed, though. I miss those days, and I miss my brother, but it's a vague kind of missing, not painful, like a piece of my heart got removed, anymore. I have a non-frivolous and very-loving-and-loved boyfriend; he buoys me up and balances me out and gives me someone to hold on to -- and I do my best to buoy and balance him, and let him hold to me. I have two sisters (whom I'm a bit closer to now). I'm in uni, though suffering through it more than I'd like (freshman year is always hard).
And... everything's all right.