06/27/00 - 04:44 AM

Yes I am content.

Content to be me. To live my life, however small and meaningless. To build up a world of friends and acquaintances, to hold my family at a cherished distance, to rethink the past and reflect it in the future with better insight.

My friends.

Well there is my roommate. She is the individual closest to me at the moment, other than my younger brother. She and I have numerous similarities in our past. It�s a tie that binds us together. Which reminds me of my brother.

My younger brother and I have always had to fend for ourselves because of our irresponsible parents. We are inseparably close. Whenever I tell him about some fanatical thing I have ventured into he never questions or rips me apart for being fickle, he just listens.

Our closeness sprouts from a childhood surrounded by one major emotion: fear. Fear of our father. Fear of our mother�s illness. In our younger days we fought and pointed fingers whenever something was broken. But when we got older, we started to take the blame for each other. The punishments of punches and kicks were more evenly distributed then. We stuck up for each other and shared secrets. I never have to worry about my brother revealing too much info to my parents. He is a reliable ally.

He is more than just my brother and my friend; he is also my pseudo-son. I became his mother figure when our own mother was unable to fulfill her role. Watching him grow into the young man that he is now has filled me with a pride that is indescribable. I am lucky to have such a relationship with my sibling. I would forsake any other family member, friend, or relationship for his sake. And I know he would do the same.

I wish I could grant other siblings the same kind of bond that he and I share. But the type of relationship we have is rare and coveted by many of my friends. We get along so incredibly well. Now that we are older, the two of us gang up against other family members. Members that would think that I would be on their side against my brother are shocked to hear a sharp reprimand from me for their shameless gossip about him. I will not take any lip from them about him. Their puny lives aren�t worth an eighth of his. Pathetic imbeciles.

As you can see, I am quite bitter towards my family. I suppose I am a bit harsh in my judgements for them. They are, after all, human. I just expect them to be more understanding and mature. They are my family, not my persecutors. They do not seem to understand that however.

But despite all their deceitful efforts, not one of them has come between my brother and I. And not one ever will.