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My grief has no priority here.
In order for me to survive, I try not to feel anything at all.
I wonder to myself why this never gets easier.
Isn’t time supposed to heal all wounds? Yet, every time is like the first time, the reminder I’m living in a world without my brother, crushing me all over again.
My grief is between me and my brother, and I don’t need to prove anything to anyone.
It’s not easy remembering, and it’s impossible to forget.”
Honor his memory by living.”
I mean, what do you say to the parents who lost their son? The grandparents who outlived their grandson? The brother and sister who are missing their sibling?
I want him to invade my space and push my boundaries.
“I’m not attracted to men,” I say boldly. “I’m only attracted to you.”
Love pours out of him, like he’s been waiting his whole life to shower someone with it.
grief isn’t supposed to feel like a punishment.
“Missing him doesn’t mean you have to be miserable, and being happy doesn’t mean you’ve forgotten about him.”
“You’re the beat of my heart, the blood in my veins, the strength in my bones. None of me works without you. And if you need me to tell you every fucking day for the rest of our lives, then I will, because you are more than enough. You’re everything.”