When I was young I shared a room with my brother. I fought with him loads. He gave me stitches, I gave him long welts on his back. He slamdunked me WWF-style, I decided his homework would look better with streaks of pink crayon. I was desperate to have a playmate, so he made me a goalpost in his football game. And when we played football inside and broke a coat of arms, I helped glue the swords back and kept the secret from my parents for over 10 years.
And then when I was 14, he left. He went to the US to live the American dream or some rubbish like that. Neither of us realised it at the time, but he left me to fend for myself in the dating world.
So CNY wasn't as great as I thought it might be. I constantly forget that 2 days with family is too long for me. And that as much as I love the de Silvas, they're not immune to asking me when they could be hearing wedding bells, or when they can stop giving me red packets.
I do love that my brother is home tho. It feels right. My mother is obviously delighted and the household is livelier, but I think I like him home because it feels like he's the only one I can talk to. As much as I hate to admit it, we're more similar to each other than we are to the rest of the family, not just in how we look, but also how we speak, how we think and what we enjoy doing. I caught his wife staring at me from across the dinner table once and she said she was just marvelling at how similar we are, especially in our mannerisms. I haven't seen him in 3 years in the now 15 years he's been away.
I hate that whenever he's back it feels like he's never been gone. I hate that when he's back I feel like I wanna spend a lot of time with him but don't because our family isn't affectionate like that. I hate that my brother seems to want to sit down and chat with me too, because that's the only way we can show each other that we care. I hate that I can't get too attached because in a few weeks, he'll be gone again, maybe not to be seen in another three years.
And then when I was 14, he left. He went to the US to live the American dream or some rubbish like that. Neither of us realised it at the time, but he left me to fend for myself in the dating world.
So CNY wasn't as great as I thought it might be. I constantly forget that 2 days with family is too long for me. And that as much as I love the de Silvas, they're not immune to asking me when they could be hearing wedding bells, or when they can stop giving me red packets.
I do love that my brother is home tho. It feels right. My mother is obviously delighted and the household is livelier, but I think I like him home because it feels like he's the only one I can talk to. As much as I hate to admit it, we're more similar to each other than we are to the rest of the family, not just in how we look, but also how we speak, how we think and what we enjoy doing. I caught his wife staring at me from across the dinner table once and she said she was just marvelling at how similar we are, especially in our mannerisms. I haven't seen him in 3 years in the now 15 years he's been away.
I hate that whenever he's back it feels like he's never been gone. I hate that when he's back I feel like I wanna spend a lot of time with him but don't because our family isn't affectionate like that. I hate that my brother seems to want to sit down and chat with me too, because that's the only way we can show each other that we care. I hate that I can't get too attached because in a few weeks, he'll be gone again, maybe not to be seen in another three years.
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