Growing up in a once close knit family: middle sister of three girls, involved parents, with a pair of grandparents + an uncle who raised me as their own. Alone time was never “a thing”. Solidarity usually meant something was wrong. Time to think meant reflection. Reflection meant wrongdoing or improper choices.

For that reason, there was never an opportunity to develop into a way that was taciturn or reticent. Befriending one of a socially timid nature, let alone becoming friends never seemed in the cards (* it usually wasn’t).

However, it’s the one whose appearance deemed bubbly and playful. But it was the status his surroundings thrust him into that were to blame for the product of his storms.

Loved by worldwide millions, few were kept heartily adjacent, which lead to so much daunting attention that each escape was never enough. A getaway from each decampment was constant.

He is a guy of many preaching words “I need your help/support” was never one of them. But that 4:30 pm Mountain Standard Time call “I’m coming to visit you for a few days after I leave Philadelphia. Please don’t tell anyone” still echoes.

His distance was always the tell all. I knew his sadness & could feel his angst from states apart.

Times together were nothing short of pure spontaneity and currency-less fun. Those years felt age appropriate, youthful, effortless enjoyment. It kept our friendship interesting. There was hardly moments to catch a breath between our banter and laughter.

He enjoyed reuniting and facilitating crowds, but not engaging. It was not an unusual find to discover he’d slip into the darkness of his alcove whilst a party exists in his backyard.

Space was his front, so I always had his back. Near & far, not a single promise was broken. I swore his pinky must’ve been in the best shape from all the curls. When opportunities hit & tragedies struck, there you were.

A reflection, a monocle-adjusting appropriation to everything I would have never thought would complement my over-sharing, extroverted ways as a social monarch.

I may have stopped the propulsion pokes to your limits of desired spacial privacy. But I can still feel in my deepest of flutters when you need it most.

You wanted hair as long as mine, and I longed for your outer composure during overwhelming events. Our silliness webbed, our ways of expression in times of entailment did not.

An evident divertissement of hide & seek. Macro without a reverberated Polo.

Time will pass. An irresolute era to strike.

my brother.

my best friend.

the recluse.

You’ll remain.

-t