It’s funny how time heals all wounds.
“I don’t want to kiss you just for the sake of kissing you. So I won’t.
I think… I prefer you as a sister. Besides, I want to be Uncle Jeremy.”
Sometimes, down my end, I get those little temptations. Perhaps it’s just playful sibling love. After all, most of the time we just tease and make fun of each other.
I’m glad it’s not awkward anymore. I’m glad we don’t have to find privacy to talk to each other about anything from that – the kiss, the feelings, the things that happened. I used to itch to talk to him about things and the way I felt, and then I’d be so hesitant about it, not feeling comfortable with even talking about it, and I used to get embarrassed to say anything as well. But now I feel like I can talk openly to Jeremy without having to hesitate.
Things are really different now. It’s not like every hug I get is symbolic of a deep desire or love that I cannot return, or that I feel Jeremy might kiss me all over my face or even on my mouth, or I’d just worry about what could happen next.
No.
It’s not like that anymore. We love each other like good friends. It doesn’t leave me to the point where I’m frustrated. It doesn’t leave me hanging on some pathetic thread in the dubious lust I previously pertained, wanting more of something that was completely sinful. It doesn’t do that.
I enjoy Jeremy’s company. Like a friend and a brother.
We’re slowly going backwards to the little depths of some long gone February some six-odd months ago. Except we’re taking with us, a little bit of strength we gathered, and love we found from the pits of a once irrepressible passion… except, a love that would exist only in a world where problems are truly resolved by the sufferers.
We are in that world. And that’s what you call sibling love.
