Sometimes I get caught off guard by the memory of hearing you cry. It’s heart wrenching the way you’re sobbing and the frustration I feel at being unable to help you. Just thinking about those moments fills me with a restless frustration so intense it’s as if it’s happening to me again. After everything you’ve done for me I want to take away what’s troubling you, for me to be your superhero instead of the other way around. And then I realise I can’t be your superhero anymore, I can’t help you anymore, I won’t be able to be the person I want to be and my frustration is replaced by self pity and sadness as heart wrenching as your sobbing once was.
It’s funny which things you decide to remember. When I moved out of my mother’s and lived on my own my brother and I would sometimes chat online. Whenever he mistyped something and I corrected him, or if I would explain something to him, he would always respond with “ohw.” I still think that is so cute and it always makes me smile when I think of that and when I see the man he has become.
Last night as I drifted off to sleep I was reminiscing about my time living along the Da Costakade in what was such an idyllic little apartment. Much was wrong with it — narrow staircases, not so much storage space and it could get awfully warm — but it did so much more right that I really miss that place. Especially laying on the sofa in the summer, next to the open window, reading a book, listening to the people at L’Affiche downstairs. That apartment was quite delightful and I miss it a lot.