I would’ve wished my brother to wake up, leave the night life and all his useless routines, grow a pair of brains and balls. But since that is too much to ask, I just wish I had a different brother. Whom I could be proud of, even if it’s just for his conscience or manners or integrity or for any other basic human qualities. But somehow, even with these very little expectations– still, not even close to being able to live up to them.
Nonstop prayers all year long. Countless talks and preaches– as normally as they are with boys– still didn’t work.
I began to wonder, what would it take to change this deranged douche? Should lighting strike him? Should someone die first? Or should I believe in fairytale and wait for a miracle to happen?
Because I don’t think he has enough humbleness to receive any constructive criticisms or enough brain cells to digest them.
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Crimson Rain
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