i decided to get myself a cuppa hot teh. teh tarik, three tea bags with condense milk and just a dash of evaporated milk. heaven. trying to keep awake to get out of the house for one of better parties of the year. all hail ashley king of spin and brudda dearest who got me in free. i am a lousy ticket seller and i shall not EVER sell tickets again. don't bother, i only sold one for brudda.
while i was waiting for the tea to boil, my older brother bounds into the kitchen. (literally, you should see him) he proceeds to wham his head against the kitchen sink and hops around the for emphasis. i boil some water and make him a cup of milo. he sits on his stool on the other side of the the black marble table and waits. i am taking too long. he jabs his finger in the air and elbows the table. i look him squarely in the face.
i suddenly realise that i don't often look at my brother. i don't think anybody in my family really looks at him in the eyes. my brother has a look of confusion on his face, like he just woke up and found himself in a world he didn't understand. confusion is usually replaced by a flashes of anger, fear and doubt. that is when he usually starts hitting, banging, slaming and pinching things, or people.
i realise that i am afraid, of what i am not too sure. sometimes i think looking at him is painful. i see the scars, cuts, bruises and swollen limbs. i wonder why it doesn't hurt him as much as i think it should, then maybe he would stop hurting himself. then i wonder about the people who aren't fucked in the head like he is and continue to hurt themselves like he does. by the time i finish my cup of tea i've blocked everything out and it doesn't singe my conciousness anymore.
