its been two years since we last spoke. when did all this time pass?
how are things? how's your sister doing? is she doing better at school? she always reminded me so much of you, just a little smaller. i hope you love her as much as i love you.
do you still play the drums? have you found new people to jam with? do they play the same music we do?
i saw you got into architecture school. i always knew deep down you'd end up doing whatever your parents told you to, but i do wish you'd followed through with being a rockstar. we could have shared the stage, and i did always think the neon lights suited you.
i stayed up all night thinking about you. i couldn't sleep a wink until 8:20 am, then i watched the sun come out and i listened to the birds waking up. it reminded me of your insomnia episodes, how you couldn't sleep unless i was by the bed and making sure nothing bad happened. i only wish you wouldn't sneak out of bed when i fell asleep too.
do you still listen to the music i showed you? do you still play the same games, and watch the same shows? in my head, you became a snapshot of yourself when you left. in my head, you're still exactly the same as i remember you. maybe that's a good thing. maybe i'd rather not know if you've changed at all.
they all insist that you did something quite awful to me, but i can't remember a thing.i can only remember the good memories of us, in between the arguments. i miss you. but maybe i miss the you in those memories. i wonder if you do too.
sometimes i dream of passing you again. i dream of seeing you on the street, though i know that's unlikely, since you're always travelling abroad now. i dream of seeing you at the skatepark again, even if i know i haven't touched my board since you left, and you probably haven't either. and i dream, most of all, of you reaching out to me -- for once, instead of the other way around.
i feel like a dog. i feel like you took me out to a beautiful scenery and gave me a treat and tied my leash to a tree, but you did it all while saying the sweetest things. you told me you loved me, that you'd never hurt me, that you wanted to be with me more than anything, that i was your brother and that we should stick together. you said you really did believe we could fight it, that you believed my promise that we'd make it out and we'd live nextdoor to each other forever. you said you wanted to stay, but you kept taking steps back. and then you got into the car -- that red bmw i know your daddy got you -- and you drove off.
and i'm still here. i'm still right here where you left me, waiting. i wonder if you'll come back to me -- i wonder if i want you to.
let me know if this ever reaches you; i'm going to throw this letter in the fireplace and maybe you won't see the words, but you'll smell the smoke in the air and it will smell faintly of nostalgia and of me. maybe you won't smell anything at all. either way, it's yours.
with love,
mikey.
don't try to find me.
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