This is a short little thing I tried, so go ahead and enjoy!
I try so, so hard to come to terms with it; I really do.
I look for ways to laugh- new jokes, dancing toys, and bewitched candy- but my laughter is hollow and empty, because it lacks the synchronization that it held before; it's a duet without a second performer.
People are afraid of me, I think.
The wound is too raw- festering and burning- and everyone is terrified they'll say the wrong thing and mention you in vain around me. Your name hasn't been uttered for weeks. They don't understand at all, do they? I want you to be celebrated; your life- however short-lived- was brilliant and as lustrous as the fireworks we created.
Yes, the sound of your name hurts like someone has ripped out my heart (which it has been, by the way) and torn my soul in two (that, too, is a very real feeling). But you are my other half and my soul mate, and no amount of love that anyone can give will be equivalent to what you and I shared: a love that is bonded when someone is there every minute of the day, and even though we look identical, we are both two different beings with one heart that beats in sync.
I just wish that everyone could know me as I did.
As I do.
Some people- naive and ignorant people- think there should be no pain if we're the same inside and out. I cannot stress how wrong they are.
A sentence that you finish for me is not finished because we harbor the same thoughts, it's because we harbor the same values, and the same love. It's impossible to understand, but you understand, don't you?
A brother, by definition, is a male sibling derived of at least one shared parent. An identical twin is a sibling with an identical biological makeup as the other.
I disagree.
Harry and Ron are brothers, but they share no marital or genetic connection. They are brothers by bond; Harry and Ron are connected by the unspoken vow that they will always be there for each other because of all that they've been through. They are brothers before they are friends.
You and I are biologically brothers and twins, but I think the connotative definition is more apt. We share blood, but also a friendship that no one else could even dare to understand. The inside jokes swallow every other sentence, the conversations we have can keep up on the exact same pace, and neither of us considered ourselves superior at any point in time. Your friendship as a brother was more severe and promising than anything.
Everything that is mine, is yours, because you were there every step of the way.
As you grew, I grew.
As I matured, you matured.
I have never felt such a passion for another human being; and I probably never will.
The hardest part of it all is restraining myself from turning to my side to tell you something. Your constancy was a part of me for all nineteen years, and what hurts the most is the reality that you're gone. It's like I've lost an arm and it's all I can do to not try and lift it up again; I'm expecting you to be there beside me.
But when I am greeted with the empty space at my side that no one dares fill, I hold my breath, because if I don't, I'll call out your name, and then everyone will hurt just a bit more.
And, I don't want to hurt- I don't want anyone to hurt- but the thought of coming to terms and realizing that I will never see you again is something that I think I will never be okay with.
I will never stop looking to my side to spread good news to you.
I will never stop making a second cup of tea in the morning.
And I will never stop laughing in your stead.
Last month, my wife, Angelina Johnson- you know her- announced she was pregnant with our first child.
Should it be a boy, I have already decided a name.
Fred.