I Swear You Will Be Fine

Dear brother,

I’m documenting this so I remember the bad things as well. I don’t like thinking about them, but when I do, it reminds me how grey things sometimes were. Do you remember the first time you guys came to visit me in London? It was a difficult flight. 14 hours, and frankly, our grandfather was too fragile for it, even though Mum had got them the most comfortable seats possible. By the time I met you guys, Mum already looked worn out.

The three of us were stressed because there were issues with your visa. Do you remember the three of us curled around laptops and phones, trying to sort it out? I think this is also the trip where I got scammed (the first time) and you’re the reason I eventually realised it was a scam. LOL.

I remember the first time you guys came to my house. I lived on the fourth floor, and Ammamma wanted Patta to see my room. They had travelled 14 hours to get there. But you were terrified and stressed about it. I stopped to talk to Nic, and I felt you rush past me and slam my bedroom door. And things began to collapse. You were having a breakdown. You yelled at me that I needed to get therapy. My windows were too small to pose an actual risk, but it was still there. Mum started unpacking things around my room. I remember watching, wondering what on earth she was doing while you were screaming. There wasn’t much else we could do.

The flatmate on my floor returned, and we didn’t exactly have a thick wall between our rooms. It was the first time they had seen me cry. I still remember seeing Ammamma and Patta downstairs looking so defeated while Mum tried to calm you down. We eventually got back to the hotel. Mum and I cried at Wingstop. The four of you had a nice dinner cuz I was out for my flatmate’s birthday. After one of those awful breakdowns, you were always good afterwards.

It happened again the day before you left. You didn’t want to go to dinner, and I had put money down on a reservation. I tried saying we had Covid, but I still wasn’t getting around it. You were threatening to kill yourself, and I was so upset with you that I said you should do it. This happened 5 years ago. I only realised how deep I had buried it after everything that happened, when I had like 20 sessions of therapy. Logically, I know it wouldn’t have changed what happened 621 days ago, but I would do anything now to have not said it. You broke a mug and hurt yourself. I was worried they would fine us for the blood on the carpet and started scrubbing it. Mum eventually put me in Ammamma and Patta’s room while she calmed you down.

It was a horrible trip. It should only have been filled with good memories, like showing you guys university and Hyde Park. Your illness took that from all of us, you especially. I hated myself for it, but I was relieved when all of you went home. London became my safe haven again. The weekend after you guys left, I remember treating myself to a bunch of nice things. I needed a break.

I never talked to you about this trip. I was scared of making you remember. I’m sorry for bringing it up now, but I need to remember that the life you had here wasn’t right either.

Miss you dude. I bring you up constantly. I think I’m scared that if I don’t, I’ll lose you. You’re still my wallpaper. Even when I get married, I’m not changing my name. Gotta keep the J.S.Glenn.

Love you buddy,
Acca