I’ve come to the realization that I love my brother the most.
Who else am I going to love more? My parents?
I’ve always been my own first, last, everything
It says a lot about how attached I felt to people around me given that the last conversation I’ll ever have with him was him threatening to kill me.
It was because I was the only person who challenged him to help himself, who really reached him momentarily, and he couldn’t handle not having that support anymore
I thought about how I’ll never see someone I loved, the only person I really knew how to love
And it came full circle, like how can it possibly hurt so much if a part of it isn’t always with me?
And I thought, hold on, is that the point? Is that why people get married and have kids and keep going with this stupid generational thing
Because love, or the thing we try at, generation after generation, the thing we strive for,
Is for some power over what is not in our power: life and death?
We keep trying to love people harder than they are dead and will never come back. And we still love people even though they can die or we can die. That’s the ultimately difficult thing we can try for. Try to love, or whatever it is that we try to do to overpower the inevitability of the endings. That is all we can strive for.
Knowing myself, if it’s a brave thing, I’ll do it.
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