Currently listening to: Alien Ant Farm - "Bug Bytes"
I'll sing you anything
I would swing from anything
I would give you everything
To not leave you hanging half remaining
Empathy - the ability to experience vicariously the same emotions that someone else is experiencing
About two weeks ago my friend, the girl that inspires me, lost her brother to a motorcycle accident. When I first heard the news of the accident, everyone asked if I talked to her yet. I shrugged it off. Apathy: my defense mechanism, because some time ago, it was made clear that I was never able to be the man she'd come to at the end of the day. So I kept her as far away from me as I could. Afterall, I figured he was just in the hospital. "Just" in the hospital. As if that alone was not enough for me to come out and be there for a friend. I answered to my friends, "Don't ask me how she's doing. I'm just not that guy." And then I found out: he was not "just in the hospital", he died. And then all of a sudden, I felt my body shake, as if there was something I could've done to stop this, to stop him from dying. That night, I lay on the hood of my car in the rain and I cried. To someone just walking by, who could tell the difference between rain drops and tears? But I cried. I cried for everything she was going through. The loss. the pain. The REALITY that someone you come home to is not going to be there anymore.
I never met the guy. But I know and loved her, and I cried.
Tonight, I'm reading her posts. There's this picture. It's during our graduation. She's got her diploma in one hand wearing her graduation gown and a smile with eyes to match. She's piggy-backing on her brother and she's happy. Their happy. And now, he's gone. And it kills me inside and out.
Throughout college, I lost someone every single year. Freshmen year, my uncle died. Sophomore year, my cousin disappeared and my aunt died. Junior year, my grandma died. Summer after senior year, my friend of liver cancer. This past year, my cousin died. Crazy, isn't it?
But losing a brother? That's something different.
I have a brother, and the reason why I took on this superhero thing is because of him. The nightmares of me losing him would kill me. I wanted to become stronger for him. To protect him. To protect all the brothers out there. But being the hero is not why I'm feeling all of this. It's not. Is it?
Under this mask, this suit, is a guy whose heart is beating for someone else. But because of my past, I'm too scared to do anything. I'm too scared to do the right thing. But I guess that makes the right thing so much bolder.
She won't read this. She probably will never know how much I feel with her. And I know I won't be the that hero. But I really don't care, just as long as someone does- odds are it will be herself.
She is a strong person, probably one of the strongest I've ever known and I believe she'll pull through with a fiercer love and passion than anyone ever could. Why? Because she's that kind of girl. The girl that's meant to be happy. With a smile like that, you know she's meant to be happy.
I've been missing in action so long; in not just her life but everybody's, and I don't feel like I should be there. I want to, but who am I really? I can't help feeling that "I'm just not that guy."
But maybe- just maybe, I am.
I'll sing you anything
I would swing from anything
I would give you everything
To not leave you hanging half remaining
Empathy - the ability to experience vicariously the same emotions that someone else is experiencing
About two weeks ago my friend, the girl that inspires me, lost her brother to a motorcycle accident. When I first heard the news of the accident, everyone asked if I talked to her yet. I shrugged it off. Apathy: my defense mechanism, because some time ago, it was made clear that I was never able to be the man she'd come to at the end of the day. So I kept her as far away from me as I could. Afterall, I figured he was just in the hospital. "Just" in the hospital. As if that alone was not enough for me to come out and be there for a friend. I answered to my friends, "Don't ask me how she's doing. I'm just not that guy." And then I found out: he was not "just in the hospital", he died. And then all of a sudden, I felt my body shake, as if there was something I could've done to stop this, to stop him from dying. That night, I lay on the hood of my car in the rain and I cried. To someone just walking by, who could tell the difference between rain drops and tears? But I cried. I cried for everything she was going through. The loss. the pain. The REALITY that someone you come home to is not going to be there anymore.
I never met the guy. But I know and loved her, and I cried.
Tonight, I'm reading her posts. There's this picture. It's during our graduation. She's got her diploma in one hand wearing her graduation gown and a smile with eyes to match. She's piggy-backing on her brother and she's happy. Their happy. And now, he's gone. And it kills me inside and out.
Throughout college, I lost someone every single year. Freshmen year, my uncle died. Sophomore year, my cousin disappeared and my aunt died. Junior year, my grandma died. Summer after senior year, my friend of liver cancer. This past year, my cousin died. Crazy, isn't it?
But losing a brother? That's something different.
I have a brother, and the reason why I took on this superhero thing is because of him. The nightmares of me losing him would kill me. I wanted to become stronger for him. To protect him. To protect all the brothers out there. But being the hero is not why I'm feeling all of this. It's not. Is it?
Under this mask, this suit, is a guy whose heart is beating for someone else. But because of my past, I'm too scared to do anything. I'm too scared to do the right thing. But I guess that makes the right thing so much bolder.
She won't read this. She probably will never know how much I feel with her. And I know I won't be the that hero. But I really don't care, just as long as someone does- odds are it will be herself.
She is a strong person, probably one of the strongest I've ever known and I believe she'll pull through with a fiercer love and passion than anyone ever could. Why? Because she's that kind of girl. The girl that's meant to be happy. With a smile like that, you know she's meant to be happy.
I've been missing in action so long; in not just her life but everybody's, and I don't feel like I should be there. I want to, but who am I really? I can't help feeling that "I'm just not that guy."
But maybe- just maybe, I am.
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