Thought Pieces

Maybe One Day

Maybe one day when everything is a little less hectic and a little less stressful, we can sit down in front of each other with a cup of tea or in your case, a few milkshakes, and talk about things. Not secrets, or life changing moments or secret lives, more like “the weather was a little iffy that day when I was out with a friend.”

I know it sounds a little odd, but when we were younger, I cried way too much, you consoled me but got mad at me for crying,  we fought, then my fits of anger began, you became a little secluded and by the time you graduated school, I felt like I barely knew you.

Was I afraid? Maybe a little. Did I feel helpless? Most definitely. But then you left for college and I shed a few tears, I didn’t turn up to school for three days either. Maybe it was a little bit too much, but spending thirteen years in the same house got way too familiar. Even though you had your friends and your interests, we still spent time together. We still spent thirteen years sharing the same room. So to not have you around for a significant amount of months, was kind of daunting. But then winter came around, I knew I was going to see you and I did. It was the best winter I had in years. On the flight home, I may or may not have wept but that’s not really important. The more you visited, the more you left and the easier it began to not weep every time we reached the airport.

I always wanted to be you. Or at least like you. Be it subject choices, clothes, speech and even interests, I looked up to you. I still do but a lot changed from then to now. I never understood why you were so closed off but now it starts to make sense and I don’t know what secret life you carried out. I still don’t but hey, at least we talk to each other. I remember when we were younger, we once served mayonnaise cheesecake to everyone. I don’t know why we did that, but we were odd and it was fun. We still are. But you’re still odder. I mean. you did refuse to call me by my name for the first two years of my life.

You’re the most diplomatic person I know and I don’t know how you do it. I get mad the moment anyone says something but you smile and even if you don’t want to do it, you never say no. Then again, I feel like one of us needs to be the rude angry one, it works. Although you do make me mad, I do want to punch you in the face, you’re probably the best person I know. I know I said I didn’t feel like I knew you before, but now, I think I’m getting comfortable with how much I know. We’ve never really been the best at talking about things, have we? I’m fine with knowing that I tell you more than you tell me, but we work. And I like that.

You’ve kind of shaped me into the person I am today. From being the only person I genuinely care about and defend even if it’s your mistake, you’ve made me realise that being myself is okay, even if that person is a little skewed.

Now, I’m not sure where all of this is coming from. Maybe it’s because I spoke to you twelve hours ago and I’m feeling a little nostalgic. Or maybe it’s because you’re the one human who provides me with the purest form of ecstasy. Or maybe it’s because you’re graduating college in a few months. Whatever it is, and if you happen to read it, I know you will pick up on my grammatical errors and any other factual inaccuracies but I hope you know how much I love you. I mean, if tackling you to the ground with a bear hug and making incomprehensible sounds at you doesn’t convey it, I don’t know what does.

In a very me way, you’re my best and I’m so proud of you. You’ve grown into this charming oddity and I still don’t understand you but you’re a little more than okay. To more ice-cream, odd combinations, corn dog cakes with honey mustard frosting, Mario Kart playing and grocery store trips. From an annoying, snobby younger sister to a wise, modest older brother, you’re my role model. It sounds like a lot of pressure, but your awkwardly adorable ways make you so precious and special, it’s easy for you.

To end,  “Here I paraphrase what Gustav H., former concierge of the Grand Budapest Hotel in Nebelsbad said about rudeness, that it is only the expression of fear. People need to be loved and they will open up like a flower.” And here I am, a little more like a flower and a little less like a bud. So maybe one day we can sit in front of each other with a few milkshakes and talk about everything and anything. Maybe one day.


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