So I remember reading this book “City of Glass” by Cassandra Clare when I was 13 or so. And at one point Alec Lightwood describes his pain as a “thousand little paper cuts every day”. Now what Alec was talking about and I am about to are very different and not nearly as big. but it always stayed with me as the first time some had put it into words, the pain I sometimes felt. The pain that essentially came from nothing. Pain that didn’t start or come from pain, but built over time.
Now I haven’t talked to my brother in a little over two years. Now this is by all means the right decision and not one that I regret even a little bit. It is right for me and right for any relationship we may hope to have in the future. But nevertheless it builds. It build throughout the year so there are large moments of family sadness. It builds when I watch movies that he would have liked. It builds when I hear the songs we would make fun of our mom for mishearing the lyrics to. It builds when I see my partner have a happy, healthy, and joking relationship with their brother. It builds when ever a new human asks me about my family.
To make things clear, none of these occurrences make me frustrated, or angry, or even sad. Even when it builds to the point of confusion as I cry during a family sitcom. Sometimes, I don’t even notice that something may have happened until I notice a emptiness days later and think back.
Yes, I miss my brother even though it is all for the best. What I miss more however, is a life without paper cuts.
Pretend adult here 