Me And My Brother

Me and my Brother

I don't have a brother. I never had one, nor was I supposed to. If he had been born, I would not have come along....”One and done” says my mother. I don't blame her, one kid is enough is no shame, I like being an only child, I learned to play by myself, solitude grew with me in my bedroom walls.

And yet my brother is there, sometimes, not always, but sometimes is like I can feel him, the smell of his hair, how his shirt would feel against my cheek.

When i am alone, my parents working till night before Christmas, when I am struggling with homework, when I see a girl and her brother.

I long for him, maybe that's why I write about Brothers so much, the older ones are the ones that come out best. I give them every virtue, I made them bold and brave and smart, protective, confident. The flaws change, but the virtues are always the same.

I don't have a brother, never had one, nor I was supposed to, but if someone ask me about my brother I could tell them every detail.

He would be older, 4 years or so, he would be 23. 

Since I am yellow and orange he would be green and lilac, we would fit like missing pieces. 

I look like my father, like every first daughter. He would be my mother’s painting, like every good firstborn son. 

Since I am history and literature, he would have been Art. His hands covered in watercolor, mine in paper cuts from the Latin dictionary. 

I am a dumbo squid, so to make things fair, while I stay in the deps he would have been a bird flying high, unafraid, no needing pressure to stay alive.

I don't know if there is a reality we both exist in, I don't know how we would have made another bed fit in my room, but I know he would smell like pine tree like our father, have my same tendency to cry for books and curls behind his hears, just like our mom and me too.

I know he would steal my fancy perfume, because truly is a male perfume but it is just so nice, I know I would steal make him cake to convince him to illustrate my biology notes for me, I know he would do it even withouth cake.

My brother didn't make it, there was something wrong... Incompatible with life, something about his heart, I never press on it. It would make mom sad. And yet he is still here. My parents told me about him once and he never left my mind, not for to long at least, i can go months withouth thinking of him sure, but then the notion pops in, he appears, and is like a punch in the stomach, 

I dont have a brother, never had one, nor i was supposed to but I do. If you are never born, can you truly die? Maybe that's why he is still here.

HISTORICAL TIKTOK

Do not tell me it would not be like this:

1)*Alexander the great as a child* "Hi I am Ale-" *Alexander the great as an adult* "They know who you are"

Hall of Fame as the sound

2) Brutus....well "BACKSTABBER"

3) Napoleon *il sera formidableeeeeee"

4) The spartans at the thermopiles *You and I ...we were born to die"

5) Alcibiades "YOU WILL MISS ME WHEN I AM GONE"

My dad is a Christian but when at 8,after hearing the story of Isacc and Abraham, i asked if he would do something like that to me he said "No, I love you too much".What is God's love in front of your child?

I am going to the estetichian and i will come back as smooth as a babies butt

First-world girl

Sometimes being lucky and privileged punches you in the face, it does make me happy for sure, but there is that moment when you go “ God damn are we sure i deserve this much?”  For real, I am here sitting on my brand-new desk from IKEA, with my 20 or so pastel highlighters, 2 dictionaries of dead languages that i get to study for free just because I was born in the right place in the right time, the bracelets on my wrists are worth enough to feed a family for a year somewhere, and we aren't even that rich!  My parents have a job, butchers, working class... they spoil me, they love me . “Everything we do is for you” that what my dad always says “You are my princess, don't you dare feel guilty about that”. I started to knit, and I got yarn, I wanted to do pretty titles for my maps and my mom got me calligraphy pens... I try to not ask for much but still sometimes the light on my window hits my bed just right and everything is golden and perfect, the canaries sing in the living room and I know the wisterias (the one my mom planted when she moved in 30 or so years ago and my overgrown bonsai) are blooming and I think that my life is perfect, so perfect i dont deserve to be the one living it.

Give me someone to love

Gods i have so much love to give. I am aching to give it to someone, to pour this all into someone who deserve it.

I am not pretty , I am not beautifull, I have a bit to much flesh on my bones to be but by the gods I am going to hold him when he cries.

I am going to make him soup when he is sick. I am going to buy him flowers because men deserve flowers.

I am going to help him with homework and he will help me

I will be good, I have so much love to give, I swear . I will be good, I just want someone to give me half a chance.

I will learn his birthday and knit him a blanket, I will embroider his name inside my pocket to hold him over my heart.

I will kiss his aches, and give him my heart. I will tell him he is beautiful and maybe he will think i am cute.

Fuck that I will be their emergency phone call, I will want to be his, I will be the sunlight to his midnight rain or any other shitty love song reference.

I will be good, I have so much to give. I just want to love someone .