Brother.
I've always been an only child, which is both a good and bad thing.
THE GOOD
- You don't really have to compete with siblings.
- Most of the attention is on you.
- You don't really have anyone to fight with.
THE BAD
- You compete with your cousins/classmates instead.
- Attention is bad, especially if you're uncomfortable with the constant scrutiny.
- You don't have anyone to share stuff with either.
- You're fucking lonely.
The loneliness has always been a problem with me, because my cousins never gave me the time of day when I was a kid, and the adults were always so busy, much too busy to talk to me and listen to the stories I wanted to share.
In the end, I created an imaginary friend, one who was so real to me that I insisted on holding his hand all the time, and insisted on saving a seat beside me at the table whenever we ate. He was the first person I spoke to when I woke up, and the last person I saw before I slept each night. It got to such a point where my mum got worried that I was talking to something else entirely, if you get what I mean.
As I grew up, I bid my imaginary friend goodbye and he happily went to build his own family. And me? I turned to books and music to fill the void that lived in my heart. I started to wish I had a brother or a sister (mostly a brother), someone to look up to. Whenever I was feeling upset, I'd always imagine that I had an older brother who would take one look at me and know that something was bothering his little sister. I started to imagine what it could be like, if I had an older brother.
If I had an older brother...
He'd prolly be about 2 or 3 years older than me, so that there wouldn't be a huge gap in our ages.
In primary school, he'd prolly bully me as a kid, and steal my books and refuse to give them back until I yelled at him or something. He'd prolly scoff at me if I came home crying because the boys at school gave me a hard time, but then quietly teach me to stand up for myself, to fight back. He'd be busy with his PSLE, and I'd be too afraid to disturb him or distract him from his studies. He'd prolly grumble about having to help me with my homework (especially math), but still help... Hopefully.
In secondary school, he'd prolly be busy with his O levels, having likely gone to a good school. I'd be busy with my own studies and friends and CCA and student council. But I imagine that we'd still talk, and discuss school life. He might tell me about the pretty girls he saw in school (and I'd be rating who was a bitch and who wasn't), and I might tell him about the guys I had a crush on (and have him rate all of them as ugly and completely useless), and we'd just remind each other that we should be focusing on our studies instead of thinking about members of the opposite sex (while laughing our heads off, mimicking mum).
When I'd be taking my O levels, he'd prolly be in JC or poly, and be busy with his A levels or projectwork (whichever one he ended up in). I'd still turn to him for help, and he'd still grumble half-heartedly as he helped me with whatever academic crisis I'd found myself in. I'd talk to him about my worries, being really stressed over my O levels, and he'd complain to me about his workload or the school politics, or his personal frustrations.
When I moved on to poly, he'd prolly be in NS or something, and come home every now and then, reeking of sweat and being really tanned (or really sunburnt the first few weeks). Mum would fuss over him looking so tired, and he'd just wave her off, grumbling about her nagging too much before ruffling my hair and saying hi, while I scowled and pretended to be upset about him messing my hair up (but I'd be really touched that he hadn't forgotten the childish little gesture he used to do).
He'd then collapse on his bed and sleep, and late at night while I worked on my assignments, we'd talk about each other's lives. He'd tell me all about his bunkmates and what it was like to be in the army with the rules and weapons and what they did (because he'd know that I'd always perk up when he talked about that), while I'd tell him about my assignments and CCA and events and how dad and I never seemed to get along any more and how I was always so heartbroken about it and confused and hurt, and he'd just tell me that dad was always like that and that I shouldn't worry too much about it. He'd scowl and take my side whenever dad and I got into arguments, and I wouldn't feel so alone in the family. I'd feel that as long as my brother was around, I'd have someplace to belong (but obviously I wouldn't tell him that, since he'd only smirk and tease me about being so sappy).
I'd then comment about how much better he looked since he was fitter now, and he'd remark that I was getting skinny, to which I'd vehemently deny (because have you even seen how fat I am now?!). He'd smirk and tease me for calling him aniki (older brother in Japanese), but then surprise me by calling me imouto (younger sister in Japanese).
If I had a brother... I think we'd both pretend that we didn't really care about each other, but he'd be someone I could turn to if I were crying or troubled, and I'd be someone he'd turn to for support, someone who would always have his back, even if he were to do something completely stupid. We'd be two idiots trying to act tough around each other, but really care about each other (even if we never would admit it!).
We'd do stupid stuff together, and laugh over the silliest things. He'd know that I liked gothic stuff and I'd know that he liked stuff like Medal of Honor or Assassin's Creed or Call of Duty, and we'd always buy stupid stuff for each other. He'd be someone I'd always look up to, someone who would never do wrong in my eyes, and I'd always be his little sister, someone who could look after herself but would need help anyway.
He'd be my brother, and I'd be his sister.
And I would never be alone, ever again.
I think I'm thinking too much.
I don't have a brother.
Never have, never will.
Back to work for me.
THE GOOD
- You don't really have to compete with siblings.
- Most of the attention is on you.
- You don't really have anyone to fight with.
THE BAD
- You compete with your cousins/classmates instead.
- Attention is bad, especially if you're uncomfortable with the constant scrutiny.
- You don't have anyone to share stuff with either.
- You're fucking lonely.
The loneliness has always been a problem with me, because my cousins never gave me the time of day when I was a kid, and the adults were always so busy, much too busy to talk to me and listen to the stories I wanted to share.
In the end, I created an imaginary friend, one who was so real to me that I insisted on holding his hand all the time, and insisted on saving a seat beside me at the table whenever we ate. He was the first person I spoke to when I woke up, and the last person I saw before I slept each night. It got to such a point where my mum got worried that I was talking to something else entirely, if you get what I mean.
As I grew up, I bid my imaginary friend goodbye and he happily went to build his own family. And me? I turned to books and music to fill the void that lived in my heart. I started to wish I had a brother or a sister (mostly a brother), someone to look up to. Whenever I was feeling upset, I'd always imagine that I had an older brother who would take one look at me and know that something was bothering his little sister. I started to imagine what it could be like, if I had an older brother.
If I had an older brother...
He'd prolly be about 2 or 3 years older than me, so that there wouldn't be a huge gap in our ages.
In primary school, he'd prolly bully me as a kid, and steal my books and refuse to give them back until I yelled at him or something. He'd prolly scoff at me if I came home crying because the boys at school gave me a hard time, but then quietly teach me to stand up for myself, to fight back. He'd be busy with his PSLE, and I'd be too afraid to disturb him or distract him from his studies. He'd prolly grumble about having to help me with my homework (especially math), but still help... Hopefully.
In secondary school, he'd prolly be busy with his O levels, having likely gone to a good school. I'd be busy with my own studies and friends and CCA and student council. But I imagine that we'd still talk, and discuss school life. He might tell me about the pretty girls he saw in school (and I'd be rating who was a bitch and who wasn't), and I might tell him about the guys I had a crush on (and have him rate all of them as ugly and completely useless), and we'd just remind each other that we should be focusing on our studies instead of thinking about members of the opposite sex (while laughing our heads off, mimicking mum).
When I'd be taking my O levels, he'd prolly be in JC or poly, and be busy with his A levels or projectwork (whichever one he ended up in). I'd still turn to him for help, and he'd still grumble half-heartedly as he helped me with whatever academic crisis I'd found myself in. I'd talk to him about my worries, being really stressed over my O levels, and he'd complain to me about his workload or the school politics, or his personal frustrations.
When I moved on to poly, he'd prolly be in NS or something, and come home every now and then, reeking of sweat and being really tanned (or really sunburnt the first few weeks). Mum would fuss over him looking so tired, and he'd just wave her off, grumbling about her nagging too much before ruffling my hair and saying hi, while I scowled and pretended to be upset about him messing my hair up (but I'd be really touched that he hadn't forgotten the childish little gesture he used to do).
He'd then collapse on his bed and sleep, and late at night while I worked on my assignments, we'd talk about each other's lives. He'd tell me all about his bunkmates and what it was like to be in the army with the rules and weapons and what they did (because he'd know that I'd always perk up when he talked about that), while I'd tell him about my assignments and CCA and events and how dad and I never seemed to get along any more and how I was always so heartbroken about it and confused and hurt, and he'd just tell me that dad was always like that and that I shouldn't worry too much about it. He'd scowl and take my side whenever dad and I got into arguments, and I wouldn't feel so alone in the family. I'd feel that as long as my brother was around, I'd have someplace to belong (but obviously I wouldn't tell him that, since he'd only smirk and tease me about being so sappy).
I'd then comment about how much better he looked since he was fitter now, and he'd remark that I was getting skinny, to which I'd vehemently deny (because have you even seen how fat I am now?!). He'd smirk and tease me for calling him aniki (older brother in Japanese), but then surprise me by calling me imouto (younger sister in Japanese).
If I had a brother... I think we'd both pretend that we didn't really care about each other, but he'd be someone I could turn to if I were crying or troubled, and I'd be someone he'd turn to for support, someone who would always have his back, even if he were to do something completely stupid. We'd be two idiots trying to act tough around each other, but really care about each other (even if we never would admit it!).
We'd do stupid stuff together, and laugh over the silliest things. He'd know that I liked gothic stuff and I'd know that he liked stuff like Medal of Honor or Assassin's Creed or Call of Duty, and we'd always buy stupid stuff for each other. He'd be someone I'd always look up to, someone who would never do wrong in my eyes, and I'd always be his little sister, someone who could look after herself but would need help anyway.
He'd be my brother, and I'd be his sister.
And I would never be alone, ever again.
I think I'm thinking too much.
I don't have a brother.
Never have, never will.
Back to work for me.
I just wish, that's all.
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