You Are Here

I am your big brother.

The one that sits on your chest so you can’t breathe.

The one that slides his fingers past your heart, across your throat and into your mind.

And I squeeze.

And you react accordingly with bellyaching, eyes leaking, chest heaving.

And I squeeze.

And you flounder about in an endless dance of futility.

And I squeeze.

And you stop, become silent, withdrawn, invisible.

The Scottish — they have a word for that.


It means “I’m not here”.

As in I don’t exist.

As in I never have.

As your big brother it’s my job to make you remember that.

Do as I say, not as you want to.

And I squeeze.

And you listen.

Listen to the sounds of your own voice telling you to do what you shouldn’t.

Like soft and beautiful waves rolling gently onto beaches only to rip it’s bright and shining stones back in a song of regret.

And how do you turn it around?

How do you stand on the shore and tell the sea not to roll? Tell the tide not to rise. Tell the stones that everything is going to be ok.

You do exist.

You are the song that’s hummed in every ocean. You are the crest of every wave. You are the tip of every tide.

Your big brother is nothing more than a whisper.

He’s not really standing at your shoulder.

He is both literally and figuratively in your head.

And I let go.

And you are worth it.

You are loved.

You are here.


6 thoughts on “You Are Here

  1. Hey John,

    Totally unrelated to anything….my wife and I are total rabid Ottawa Senators fans (I hate the fighting though as those dudes are just getting way too strong…damage and death will happen) and our team is playing in your fine city today. Have a great Sunday all.


  2. To my utter shame, so much writing just bores me. Rarely do I come across a piece that actually causes me to gasp, draws tears, and makes me realize I’ve just been nailed. God, you’re good, Dave.

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