My brother cont.

Another reason to love my brother. It was another time he saved me, and he didn’t even know it. He didn’t even have to do a damn thing. He only had to walk where he was already going. I remember being furious and that makes me a little happier now. That I was mad, at least once.

I’m glad that I voiced my opinion to get off of me. You have to remember at the time I was… fifteen? I knew nothing of relationships. Or high school ones I should say. I only knew the “can’t get your hands off of me” type love. I only knew what my friends told me. I thought it was all normal. I didn’t know that when you say no. Most people stop. I never realized. Re-writing all of this I feel a little… lame for freaking out about little things. These were so big to me at the time, I felt violated. I felt lost. How can you tell a hopeless romantic that this is it?

I am happy to start forget the memories that plagued me. I know I will forever remember the feelings. I will remember the emotions that went along with them. I will remember the fear. I’m glad I’m forgetting the clothes. The smells. The words even have started slip. In a way I can’t be happier to let my cell get a little larger, but even as I think I can remember the striped polo, or the shirt I gave him for his birthday, or the smell of his deodorant, mixed with mine, I could barf now thinking about it all. It is starting become a little harder to recall. I’m getting happier about that.

Sean contrast to Steve use to pick me up on the counter when we were making chocolate chip cookies, and he’d look at me. Placing a hand on me face I’d tilt into it. I remember the flour on my hands, and the way his eyes looked at me. I can remember the feel of his arms around me. I remember the smiles. I remember the love I felt. I’m glad I’m still holding on to the right things, and letting go of some others.

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1 Comment

Filed under Life, Memories, Thoughts

One response to “My brother cont.

  1. You shouldn’t feel lame for freaking out. At 15, even being touched, being seen in any sort of nudity, can be and feel like a huge step. I remember how freaked I was by my first anything-sexual encounters. Of course you felt violated – the idiot didn’t take his hands off of you even when you told him to! That’s violation of your rights and feelings always, not only at fifteen, and you know that now.

    It’s good that you’re able to let go of some of the memories that rise up in you about him. It means you’re able to let go and let yourself heal a bit from the pain he caused you.

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