Today I was in my brother’s room (in Cal) and I suddenly saw that the wall which had this poster of a 60s pin up babe leaning against a convertible, was bare. His computer, which seemed very state of the art three or four years ago, seemed a little lonely. Not a whole lot had changed in his room actually. Bits of him were still there. I imagined that boy in his Bermudas and faded T-shirts, watching football on TV and playing games on the comp, reading his crime thrillers and obsessing about cars. I really don’t think a whole lot has changed, but that missing poster – it bothered me for some reason. Like the time he walked in late for a World Cup match because his fiancé took too much time at a store buying grocery. I saw a side of him I never knew. He bit the bullet, he behaved extremely maturely. A part of me was happy for his new found grown upness, but for most part I was scared. I was losing my loopy, short tempered best friend to a girl who was nothing like us and my brother was losing all the things that made him, him.

He’s happy though, I think. And it’s just me, who’s somehow stuck at 16 - in awe of her older, much cooler brother - refusing to let go of an image of a person who’s just moved on, naturally. I’m losing my partner in crime, and it seems to be happening at a time, when all these little partnerships I have reveled in, are slowly, but surely crumbling or fading. Maybe they just morph into a different kind of partnership, a different kind of love. You probably never stop being close. But you also probably never get to be the same. And I miss that. I’m just sentimental I suppose.

I watched a wonderful episode of Glee today. I am a sucker for underdogs.