i need to say, what i could never say before.

I always fit in. I was always outgoing. I was always daring.
I was fearless. I was confident. I was just like everyone else.
I was everything he taught me to be.

We were different, but so much alike.
We were close, yet so far apart.
We were family, but we were strangers.
I love him, and I hate him too.
He changed me.
This changed me.
Just like somethings do.

I left my friends. I wasn't outgoing. I was unwilling.
I was cowardly. I was timid. I was an outcast.

I pushed everything away. I thought I need to be self-sufficient.
I wanted to make sure I didn't need someone like I needed him. I wanted to make sure I never cried like that again. Maybe that's why I'm not as close to anyone as I was to him. I wouldn't let anyone know that I missed miss him.
I miss his hugs.
I miss his smile.
I miss our Tarzan.
I miss his harassment's.
I miss his personality.
I miss his dorkiness.
I miss my best friend.
I miss the one person who got it.
The one who got me.
I miss my cousin.

"Band members started planting trees after the death of trumpet player John Wendling who died Feb. 12, 2001. Wendling was killed as the passenger in an airplane crash."

It was an accident.
A malfunction.
A permanent "oops" that brought me to tears, and changed my life.
He said we would live till we were 101.
I guess he was wrong.

Now every time I go to Nevada, I go to his house, and I go into his bedroom.
I remember.
I remember him stealing my teddy bear, and holding it hostage.
I remember him telling me I had big feet.
I remember him riding his bike all the way to the park when I "ran away" from our grandparents house.
I remember my Dad coming home to tell our family that John had died in a plane crash.
I remember the five hour drive.
I remember thinking it was just a mistake.
I remember walking into the church.
I remember the minister asking me to say a few words.
I remember saying everything I could possibly say about John.
I remember going to his grave site.
I remembering being one of the last to leave.
I remembering sitting there with Kristen, and I remember her telling me he was the only boy she had ever loved.
I remember I was only eight.

After that day, I had a permanent scar. He was really gone.
Just when I felt like everything was starting to come back, and I was finally getting my life back to where it need to be,

"Carl Schaich 1924-2008"[...] "Schaich who died Aug. 7, 2008 at his Minden residence. He was 84."[...]

another cut deep into my skin.
I'm not as distant as I was the first time,
but I definitely am not what I used to be.
Both of this incidents changed me.
They made me who and what I am today.

I love them, and I hate them.
I love them, because they changed me.
I hate them, because they can see me everyday,
I won't see them until the end. :/

I guess you could say I'm bitter, but honestly, that's an understatment.

I miss them.
a lot.

editor's note.
my longest,
and most personal blog.
ever.