My Dear Brother

My dear brother, Andrew, is a funny kettle of fish. Highly intelligent, he was the one out of us three kids that was destined to go far. If he wants to learn something, he is more than capable of finding a way to teach himself. He has a degree in Chinese Medicine and did incredibly well in high school, before this.

Yet, despite all this, life has stopped for my dear brother. He hasn’t gone far at all. My other brother has a lovely family and good job, while I have been successful in most things I attempt. But my dear brother Andrew has been left with nothing but an inability to cope with the reality of life.

Some may argue that Andrew has some degree of autism; others would argue he is schizophrenic. Whilst I am aware that these are two very different conditions, the arguments are by no means unfounded. You see, my dear brother presents himself in so many different ways that it impossible to know what to expect.

Unable to deal with authority, jobs are extremely hard to get for Andrew, let alone keep. Days spent on the Internet, without leaving the house, allow his head to be filled to the brim with conspiracies, which he believes to be true. Overwhelming paranoia screams in his head as he walks around town: “they look like they want to beat me to a pulp”. Indeed, as it stands, no one wants to beat him to a pulp. That is, not until he scowls his black, terrifying, scowl.

His memories of a traumatic childhood that simply did not exist taint our family relationship. His feeling of rejection is born only from our fear of saying or doing the wrong thing. A lovely family gathering can quickly turn into a dark and twisted ordeal should one of us mutter a comment that can be misinterpreted.

One winter day, my dear brother was telling me how hard his life was; how tragic his circumstances. All the while I shook my head, all the while I was saddened. He told me how those who were meant to love him had ruined his life. Every time I hear this, I feel angry at his betrayal. We try to love my dear brother, but his heart will not accept it.

All at once I feel the need to yell, “stop feeling so sorry for yourself”. But, alas I knew more tact was required.

“If it wasn’t for the parenting I had, I would be a success like you!” Andrew claimed, with such vehemence.

“My dear brother, we had the same parents and, therefore, the same parenting,” I suggested, as calmly as I could.
“You had more love than I, that is undeniable,”

“Alas, dear brother, I fear you are wrong. Our father walked out when I was just ten and has shown little love to me since. You, however, were eighteen, our father had already shown you the way and led you to adulthood,” I finished speaking and waited for a response. None came, only the shadow of dark clouds rolled in.

“More to the point,” I continued, “you are now 35, you no longer have the right to blame your parents for your life. You must take responsibility.”

No words came from my dear brothers mouth. Therefore, I took it upon myself to say one last thing before he stormed out.

“My dear brother, I will stay this only once,” I said, as I readied myself for the door to slam, "You only live once, but if you do it right, once is enough."

And that, on my final syllable, was when my dear brother could take no more. My front door slammed and he has yet to return.

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Written as a "The Writer's Cramp"  entry. Using the prompt: Write a story 1000 words or less or a poem 40 lines or less based on this quote: "You only live once, but if you do it right, once is enough." -- attributed to Mae West

Word count = 626