I sat on the bus today, heading to work- just thinking. Really I was thinking about a story. And then a song came on, called Oh Wonder. And I was matching the song to my plot line, when my mind suddenly switched. To Thomas. The lyrics are a love song, about a lost love. And the lyrics that tore me were "loving you is to hard. Loving you leaves me hurt."
And I'm not sure. Those words resonated the memory of Thomas inside of me. I ended up covering my mouth, and silently crying on the bus, and staring at the window.
Thomas's anniversary is approaching rapidly. His death date. As I have already explained in a previous chapter, the anniversary of wishing my brother was dead, and wishing he never had to suffer like this. And wishing it could be anyone but him lying on his death bed at age 6. Almost three years to mark the beginning of my major depression and anxiety. Almost three years since I told Thomas I loved him. Since I laughed at his dumb jokes. And saw him smile. With his fiery red hair. His amazing imagination.
And even then it's been longer since I saw the Thomas before that/ the cancer free Thomas. The one that could run and play like normal children. The one that acted more like a child then an adult. The one that wasn't affected with regular hospital visits, the one that would scream and run around the house, earning himself the playful name "Tommy Terrorist." The one that would be allowed to play with his dog.

It's so hard. I swear. Its hard to explain.
Sometimes. It was like he was never there.
Sometimes it was more like he was a dream. A really good dream that went sour.
Isn't that awful. A real human being has been reduced to a dream-state memory. Was ever here? Have I just always been this fucked up- and not because I lost someone so close to me.
It's hard because pictures of Thomas sometimes just feel fake now. It's only been three years and all that pain and loss doesn't even feel real. How could it. It's so traumatic. Nothing like that should ever happen.

The hideous truth I guess, the one people don't want to tell you. The loved ones are reduced to dreams more then memories. Like it never happened.
And it's awful. And pitiful. And disgusting.
But I guess that's how it is. And I disgust myself in thinking like that. But I had to get this off my chest or I'll cry for the rest of the day.

It's not the first time I've cried on a bus about Thomas either. About a year or two ago. I forget now. I was heading to my boyfriend, Liams house. And I started to cry. I didn't make any noise except awful sniffs and I was crying pretty hard. And there was a group of girls staring at me while I cried. They were in front of me and they just kept on turning around and looking at me and then whispering to themselves. And I got so self concious. So I stood up and sat behind them, and when they looked behind to stare at me again they were Shocked to see I was closer. And I said "I'm not crying over some stupid boyfriend or anything." Because that's how it felt. I was crying over my dead brother but people looked and stared and I felt like they were judging me for crying over something I wasn't. I didn't give the girls time to speak. I said "my brother died last year and it's his anniversary soon. I'm not being petty." Their mouths dropped and they ended up asking me about it and apologising for staring.

So yeah. I guess crying on the bus is normal when your stuck with music and your own thoughts.