Most of the time I try to pretend I'm ballsy and this whole thing with him doesn't phase me. But the fact of the matter is, I'm a fucking wreck. I miss my brother, and anytime something reminds me of him, my heart breaks a little more.
I can't drink Mountain Dew without my heart breaking, it was his favorite. I can't look at a sheep without my heart breaking, we had an old inside joke about them. I can't eat ketchup anymore, he put that stuff on everything. My heart hurts when I see someone with a Metallica or Iron Maiden shirt, because I always think, "Trevor had that shirt." (He had them all.) I can't listen to half the songs we used to listen to, because they bring back memories of sitting in my room (his was always too stinky.) just talking about life and having these songs in the background. The point being, I can't see or eat or do half the things I used to because it invokes all these memories.
Memories are bittersweet to me. They're sweet because I love remembering all the good times we had. All the crazy shit we did, all the fun we had, all the trouble we got in together. I used to bitch about it all the time, but now I miss getting in trouble for the things he did. I miss purposely taking the blame for something he did, because he was already in trouble. I miss how I could tell him everything. I miss our heart to hearts, no one knew me better than him. I didn't have to keep up a charade with my brother. If I wanted to bitch, he let me bitch. If I wanted to cry, he let me cry. He didn't expect me to be perfect, and he knew I was a fucked up person sometimes, but he loved me anyway. These things are bitter because I know this is the end of all those things.
It kills me to be back in this town. Driving around, I see places him and I have memories. Especially when I'm in our old neighborhood. I can't go to our old BatCave anymore, I can't see the guard chicken, sometimes even my grandma's house makes me sad. There's sooooo many memories, and they're everywhere. I still have pictures of us up on my wall, along with old birthday cards he gave me. Seeing his crap ass handwriting makes my heart feel like it's literally shattering.
People always tell me, "Don't worry about him, he's an asshole." Yes, I know he's an asshole sometimes. I know his angry side, I know his happy side, I know his sad, grumpy, sappy ALL of it. I know my brother. In no way shape or form do I think he's a saint. I lived with the kid for four years. I know that he's an asshole. But that doesn't mean I don't love him. Asshole or not, he was my brother. And though we haven't talked for months, I still consider him my brother. What I am to him now, I don't know and I think I'd rather not know.
I've even been told on more than one occasion that "It's not like he's dead." And while I am absolutely grateful that he's alive, this hurts more than if he had died.
If Trevor had died, he wouldn't have had the choice to abandon me. He wouldn't have had the choice to walk out of my life and pretend that I don't exist anymore. But walking out of my life like this, he did on purpose. He straight up abandoned me. He knew what he was doing, and he did it without ever looking back.
This is the main reason I don't trust many people. I don't put my all into relationships or friendships because if my brother can just up and walk away from me, what's stopping anyone else?
This heartbreak hasn't eased up. I miss my brother. I miss the friendship we used to have. I miss EVERYTHING. I try my hardest to be happy, and for the most part I'm okay. But the thought of Trevor is always nagging at the back of my mind.
I want things to be okay again. But since I know they never will be, is it to much to ask for to just me be okay?
I don't want to think about him all the time. I don't want to be reminded of him everywhere I go and with everything I do. I don't want to not have him around. I just want my brother back, god damnit.
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