I Can't Find A Title

Maybe because no title is good enough. I don't know. I swore i would at least try not to ramble on and on about my brother being gone. And in all fairness, i think i've been pretty good so far. I don't bother people with my pain and my loss, i don't mention him often on social medias either and in all honesty, i try not to think about him too much either. Needless to say i fail miserably on that last point. I think about him every single day that passes. And when i haven't, there is always something to remind me of him. A song, a smell, a clothe, a detail on the street that he would have noticed and loved, anything.

I don't know if you ever get over the loss of a brother. You learn to live without but you don't get over it. It's just not possible. It's like a piece of you is missing. I've been through thousands of pictures, old ones of when he was just a little boy, recent ones i found on his computer, ones of vacations he took to come visit me in Mexico. I even have one of the rare picture of us two together on my computer's wallpaper. And sometimes, i stare at my screen and this massive anguish crawls into me, and this dreadful thought, this horrendous reality hits me: he is gone forever. I will never hear him talk, or laugh again, i will never hold him again, i will never see him again. And that's when this gigantic oppressive ball is building in my throat and when the floor disappears under my feet. It's a pain no word can ever describe accurately. It's a hole that nobody nor anything will ever fill up.

Every time i visit my parents, every time i see his pictures spread all over the house also reminds me that i don't have a brother anymore. Well, i do. He was, is and always will be my brother. But he's not with us anymore. Nor will he ever be again.

I miss him more than i can tell. As i said earlier, i don't want to bother people with it but sometimes, it's a fact that's so overwhelming that it overflows me and i don't know what to say, or do. In those awful moments, i feel completely lost. And i wish i could understand why was he taken from us so soon. Why couldn't he meet the wonderful man i share my life with, why couldn't we spend another family Christmas, why won't he ever meet the children i might have one day, or why can't i be his kids's favorite crazy aunt.

Life is a bitch. And even though i do have this amazing capacity to see the good in every situation i come across with, sometimes, i just don't get it. I know it might sound childish but i just wish he was still here with me.

I Weight 72kg

Trust me, it came as a shock for me too. I was sick last week so i went to the doctor and naturally, he asked me to step on the scale. And BAM, 72kg. My first thought was, his scale is completly wrong, it can't be accurate, no freaking way i weight 10 more kilos than 6 months ago. And since i was visiting my parents just a few days later, i hopped on their scale, just to check (up until that week end, i didn't own a scale). And BAM, 71.3kg. On their other scale, 71kg. Right out of bed, with no food in and after the mandatory morning bathroom stop.

HOLY. MOTHER. FUCKING. CRAP.

It's just a number, it's just a number, it's just a number. I have to convince myself it's just a number. Cuz end of it all, it is. Just a number i mean.

My mother is OBSESSED with my weight. I've never been thin, never been fat either. I'm just naturally well built, with meat on my bones and a fair enthousiasm when it comes to eating. But i do sports. And honestly, i do quite a fair bit every week. I do 30 minutes of crossfit 5 days a week and i walk a good 15km (if not more) distributing all my publicity. I eat well, and by well i mean well-balanced, i don't drink sodas, i don't eat junk food, i have the occasional piece of chocolate, i don't put too much sugar in my tea and i don't eat like a dog. But still, my mom thinks i need to watch my weight.

Well you know what? This is the heaviest i've ever been in my entire life. Yet, this is the best i've felt in my entire life. I do have a little belly i could do without but i've never been stuckier, firmer and fitter than i am right now. I feel good in my own skin, i like what i see in the mirror, i'm happier than i've been in a long time and i have more energy than most people half my age. So yeah, the number on the scale is just that: a number. And i'm not gonna let anybody making me believe i need to go on a diet cuz i don't. Not even you, mother.

Now if you allow me, i'll go indulge on a piece of chocolate :P

I Can Hear My Neighbor Pee

I know, i know, that doesn't sound glamour whatsoever but it is unfortunately true. The studio I live in is so freaking small and the walls are so freaking thin that I can pretty much hear anything that is going on in the building. OK, maybe i'm exaggerating a little. But just a little.

I have quite a few neighbors since there are 20 studios in the building. Let's not talk about the dirt-bag in 42, just mentioning it might give my man rashes. But the girl just above us uses heels to walk (and it's annoying you have no idea) and I can hear when she pees. It's kinda gross and I thought, ok, let's just imagining that she's doing the dishes but the water falling in the sink does not make the same sound as the piss hitting the water in the toilet! On the plus side, I can't hear when she poops, thank God.

The neighbor just next to her, so not directly above us, is apparently a gamer. We can hear it cursing at his computer when he loses, especially in the evening. He drives this big ass jeep/pick up truck and drives in the parking lot like a maniac.

We also have an old man who makes me sad every time I see him because it's a residence for students mainly and he doesn't seem to have friends, a single dad who gets his kid once every fortnight, a slightly handicapped guy who always wants to sell me his furniture (especially stuff I so don't have room for like a couch and a washing machine (no idea how he fits it in his studio!!)), a couple of “doudou” as we call them (they're from Martinique), a guy who must be playing soccer since I always seem him with a big sports bag and a ball, a student whose mom and younger sister come visit on the week end, a guy with a scooter that he locks on the bar of his window, a cherry tree, a stray cat, an occasional hedgehog and magpies my cats are dying to catch (I don't think they've ever seen a bird that big).

All in all, a pleasant place to live, if it wasn't for that ass in 42 and for the 20 square meter we live in.