Dear Brother Man,
A few days ago you would have turned 24, but I think you may have liked April Fool’s better. Also, since I was hanging at our parents’ house on your actual birthday there was no way I would have been able to compose a letter to you and keep my own sanity. Posting it here would have been impossible as well with the dial-up and all. They still keep the computer you built downstairs, even though the insides have been redone a few times and the monitor is the one you brought back from college. Everything went out of date so fast and you aren’t here to keep us current; I hate having part of my heart stuck in the heat of that August night forever.
I still feel part of myself pulling away to find that piece, always searching for you. It feels like my rib cage is cracked, hanging open and my guts are straining to get out and smack you in the face. All that love has turned into something heavy and black. That makes me so tired.