Futaba

Is it really?

Is writing just a waste of my time, 

and a waste of time for others to read?

Is writing this here now, 

is it really useless?

According to some people it is.

I've been thinking, 

that my little brother- 

is just an illusion created by my mind. 

And it's because 

I don't get how somebody, 

like him, 

so sweet, 

You,

my mirror,

my other half,

my dark side.

We look the same.

But in no way are we alike.

We're like two halves, 

of the same coin.

But you-

are my worst regret.

Touched by your kindness,

I felt a sudden warmth in my chest.

If you can really say, "I love you"-

will my mind feel lighter?

Past closed doors,

I can hear a faint voice.

I can't make it go away,

I remember when

my eyes met his—

the ghost boy with the pink hair and the fake life.

Right, he sighed. Guess we're climbing a skyscraper tonight, you ready, lame traffic earring?

We locked eyes, if only for a fleeting moment.

You- you're- you're really here.

Right?

I really couldn't believe it. 

Tears welled in my eyes

as I thought about everything that had gone on.