a letter to my bruv
The first time I laid eyes on you, you were just a little boy, trying your best to be a good son, studying like crazy and having math problems too many.
That was another time in my life when I felt like I was living with a god given purpose, serving my faith community, helping teenagers get along with their lives, make sense of their perils, build a healthier relationship with their parents. I wasn’t planing on being so involved with your life and growth and journey.
The first time I made you a mixtape we had played chess games too many. You won every single time we reached an ending, until the moment we did not need the game as an excuse to spend time together anymore. You saw me as an older brother. I saw you as my little one. Someone to protect, to help, to develop, to share life with. I thought I’d be around for too long. I did not know I was crafting mixtapes like they were Star Wars movies too make up for my absence.
I felt the freedom of living my life as my own self.
I felt the devastating pain of losing the purpose and the concept of a god who would give it to me.
I had to carve my own ideas of purpose and meaning to live, understand my own desires and what I wanted from human connections of any sort, find new friends that could help me navigate through all that and even have the lucky of making a new best friend to balance myself as a soul completion.
I could not lie to you that last time I saw you. If I would ever go back it would only be to be close to you, to keep you close to the reality of it and not only through the songs that we listen too much to keep that time alive three years later. You’re my little bruv, and I could not forgive myself if I ever lose you, and yet right now, I can not forgive myself for even having started this.
Befriending you and having to leave, and listen from you that I was part of the reason you got to do all you do today and yet I’m not there to see or walk with you through that daily, I mean, last time I’ve seen you was over four months ago and even that was two years too late.
And I cry when I think about that and about the price I would have to pay to be closer. If I could only find a better way, an easier one.
Cause in the process of finding myself and becoming myself, I lost you, so I could find you in truth once again.
The only thing I wish we could do is play chess again like nothing else mattered. I don’t know if we are capable of that. I don’t know if life would allow that. Behind all the meanness the vacancy bleeds us.
Check mate, bruv.
This is a dangerous outing. Call it what you will, I call it fire.
Sometimes I wish I’d never have to leave.