TALES OF AN ORANGEPEELER
an archive of pleasures, wounds, sublimations
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03.03.04, wednesday night
It's been a year & 5 months since I last spoke to my brother.
And I really don't mind that anymore.
Is that sentiment callow? An irresponsible disregard of sisterness? No, no, not at all. Especially as I have grown to love Jimmy so much more than when I first knew him, when Deth exiled me from his life. Yes, exile. Because dear brother will not call what he has done disownment, I will call it exile, for it was out of what he, ever so patriarchal, perceived as the kingdom of his brotherhood that I was to be cast out, outcaste, not-sister. After such treatment, how could I not define sisterness as a condition to be avoided? A relationship to another based on lies. Or a prop to another's being, without her own desires & needs. Definitely a belonging dependent on duty & deceit.
When distance between people is compounded by simple-minded arrogance & egomania, it grows & grows til not even words dare to bridge the chasm.
But it's not really a chasm, is it? More like a black hole, sucking up our history until all I have ever felt for him becomes nothing, an absence of tender emotion & compassion.
Yes, yes, too late is too possibly a possibility.