It's been a while hasn't it? I've been spending a lot of my time thinking; about my past, my childhood... It has come to my attention recently...that I have an older brother. His name is Bastien. Growing up, I was unaware of my siblings, until I hit fourteen. Shortly thereafter I met my sister, Lily. I met her when she became my legal guardian because the rest of my family refused to take me in. It's not as though I can blame them; I was already a teen and I'd been through so much...trying to raise me would be a risk no one would want to take... my foster families made that clear. In any case, Bastien says he's been looking for me for at least a year, searched Paris and New York, but he found me in Germany... I didn't mention that; I went to Germany with Tan. We're living with his family now, and it's nice, honestly, quiet. Jester is loving the yard and the house is nice...although it negates any need to work out... the place is HUGE. His brother is nice... frightens me a bit, though, more because I have so little experience with family workings, -AND- he knows -EVERYTHING- that goes on in that house...and that's creepy. Anyway... so Bastien is -REALLY- tall...kind of like Nic, really... Actually, I think they're the same height. Bastien has all sorts of questions about my childhood... and isn't as though I want to deny him, I mean, he's my brother and I want to know him and have that relationship... but I hardly know him and I can't just spill my life to him. Maybe it's because he is my brother... When most people ask...I tell them what I lived through...even if I do omit certain facts and details. And depending on the person...it can be a quiet, serious discussion...or a bitter, vehement battle on my own part... but I just...can't find it in myself to tell Bastien anything...and I start feeling like my old self again...and I just...say nothing. I can tell how frustrated he's getting by the way he looks at me...but I just sit on his window sill and stare outside... I never say anything until he lets me leave... and then it's just a quiet "Good night". Sometimes it scares me, how I can't talk to him...how much like myself I feel when I get trapped in those conversations, one-sided as they may be. It makes me think of how I lost myself after my sister died, after Dustin died and I was just homeless in a country I'd only lived in for two years...with no Dominic...no Benni... no Central Park, nothing truly familiar...except the Theatre, which was just as much Hell as the streets...but I could fool myself into thinking it was home. And it makes me wonder... if I don't talk soon...will he go away? And if he does...will he come back? ...or will I lose him? I don't want to lose him... I'm just not ready to talk yet... Maybe if he just...told me about him... I think I'd like that.