Everyone else (or so it seems) has a close relationship with their family members, and I don’t. So obviously there must be something wrong with me.

But what if I’m choosing a poor metric for myself and my life? What else could be true that I’m not considering? Well, perhaps I don’t need to be close to my brother to have that good relationship that I value. Perhaps there just needs to be some mutual respect (which there is). Or maybe mutual trust is what to look for (and it’s there). Perhaps these metrics would be better assessments of brotherhood than how many text messages he and I exchange.

Maybe we both misunderstood that we have been brothers since you and I met? I don’t know for sure because we don’t talk that much. That’s okay with me — I still love you even with the time and space between us. I just wanted you to know that in my head we often have conversations, anyway, so your sincerity and openness are always with me.

Sometimes we talk about the past and how we could not have known each other because I was too immature before we met. I tell you how I used to grossly preconceive relationships, and loathe my self for losing touch with friends like you. And even if I wasn’t so judgmental then, I would still have overlooked your value because I was too unhappy to think.

But then I met her. “Life has had different meaning since then,” I say. “She helped me question everything, especially the definition of love.” Self love. Knowing her has catalyzed the destruction of my value system, and now I live as if, before, I was blind.

You might be the first man to tell me, without an expectation, ‘I love you’. Your words were timely because, honestly, I could not have grown from them before. And maybe it isn’t necessary, but I’ve never explained my reply. You should know it was not improvised; until that exchange, I just hadn’t really considered our bond to appreciate its true form.