Maybe someday. Someday, I feel it will be easier. Break it down into sections. Little bite-sized pieces to savor for a few moments at a time. However they form in my mind. I was a few grades below you, so it probably took a while to register. When we moved here, I was terrified. My parents were oceanic.
An entire decade of life, but no experience with anything like this place. I was scared of being an outsider here. I think that was true for all of us. You know me. Maybe some subtle graffiti to mark the location. Maybe a plaque, or a scrapbook, or a tattoo with the coordinates. I just remember that it was good for me.
My brother was old enough to look out for me here, so we stayed. I liked being with you. I liked being with all of you. My parents wanted me to stay too, I think. They wanted me to learn and grow in an environment like this. They wanted me to be a part of the community⦠someone who could relate to others. Really live in both worlds. It was a sacrifice for them. I thought it was my fault. I thought the whole situation had been an elaborate ploy to drop me off in the first place, and I felt so guilty.
That they left you? They moved away without you? I thought I scared them off. These days, I just feel guilty for my brother. He lost his own youth to taking care of me.
He wanted to stay. That was his decision to make. That first year was rough. It got a little easier for us after he graduated, but I never realized just how much of his life he basically threw away for me. He had to look out for me all the time. I liked pretty words. I liked how you could write something that rolled off the tongue like music.
