I was still struggling, but I did my best to put on a brave face
my nights were spent silently crying as I called my brother’s phone over and over again just to hear his voice. there are no words that could accurately describe how much I missed him. & my days? – well, my days were spent masking that pain, because I felt like I needed to be strong. as much as I was hurting, my mother was hurting just as much, if not worse. sometimes I wonder how my mental health would be today if I had talked to someone back then and owned all of my emotions – that’s a story for another time. I faked it so much it started to feel real. school was a nice distraction and when I was there, things felt almost normal.
I don’t know why we were always so standoffish with one another
we hadn’t spoken much since that day at the pool, but you were always there when it mattered. there was some small talk here and there between periods, because your locker was central to so many of my classes. as much as I loved talking to you, it was the moments when we didn’t talk that stuck with me most. you had a reputation for being a smug, sarcastic dick- but not with me. I lived for those moments when we passed one another in the halls and you’d nod my way and smile. the days when I left my jacket home and you leant me yours. never questioning my silence or sadness, but allowing me to feel it without treating it like it was something that needed to be fixed. it didn’t matter how much we did or did not talk. you had a different way of being there, and it meant more than I could ever say.
you were my greatest comfort