Среда 29 Сен 2010, 23:18

Dearest you,
You have a gargantuan propensity for procrastination and you are the Crown Prince of Stupefyingly Lazy. Ironically, you spend longer in the bathroom than I do and yet your hygiene practices still remain questionable - your room a health hazard; the world's cesspool of sudden death and olfactory rape. I avoid lending you money like THE PLAGUE because you have no intention of paying me back. Nine times out of ten, you buy pointless crap. You refuse to spend money on anyone else but yourself.

Example: Your first date with your horrible ex-girlfriend was situated in your crappy Purple Ford Fiesta parked in a full car park, devouring $6 doner kebabs.

You are passive-aggressive, a creature of impossible impulse, an elected ignorant and twenty-three going on twelve and I let you know it. I'm an intellectual elitist, a histrionic pre-menstrual psychopath, chronic organisational freak and seventeen turning fifty. I know this because you never let me forget it - it's not as if I don't try, but your words stick. Worst of all, I actually care about what you think. Even worse, I cry hard over the things that you say and do, but it's the things that you don't say and don't do that make me cry the hardest.

But even when I distance myself from you in social situations or pretend I'm superior because I'm smarter (you always say so!), I adore you more than anyone or anything.I love your physical and emotional strength, your jar-opening hands, your bone-crushing hugs, our muted laughter and slurred 2AM conversations whispered between our rooms about everything and nothing.

You have a tremendous capacity for humour, tolerance and forgiveness. Even when it's my fault, you always say sorry first. You exist in fragments of interrupted sunshine and contentment - the memories of my childhood. You reign in the recollections of my sepia euphoria which pulses in my beating heart.

Our filial connection is tangible, strong yet unspoken. Our hair, our lips, our eyes, our origins are one; you, always my brother and me, forever your sister.

P.S. The year is 2007, a deliciously cold December in Osaka. My hands tremble as I take off my black gloves and capture this moment.
I grew up in a different country and you dyed your hair a ridiculous shade of orange.
http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f202/da_azn_supragrl182/dyedhair.jpg