The distance between us only grows

This love is complicated and dark and light and something and nothing and frustrating and hopeful.

It is all still the same, some increase in friendliness. But still the same. I would have expected more, especially if your brother is almost killed on the streets of Oakland. I would have expected maybe more than an email, that too, apparently sent out to every connection he has.

Is it sadness, to see pictures of people you met once, now engaged or married, and to feel envy? Like that coulda been me if I was more open. I coulda been her. Or, that should be me with so-and-so but he's so damn obtuse. Or, I am wasting my life on this splattered egg. Nothing will come of this mess.

He is beautiful. And distant.