Little Brother




I see this moment in my head, right before my little brother entered his angsty stage. He comes into my room, holding one of those thick school books designed to do over the summer so you don’t get “stupid.” He already asked my sister for help, and she was impatient with him, so he comes in a little distraught. He sits on my bed and asks for my help. I’m doing something so irrelevant on my computer I can’t even remember. I’m not in the mood to help. I try and help him. We’re multiplying numbers or something. I’m losing patience with him. He’s not getting it. I throw my finger down aggressively on the page and say something mean, “you don’t get it Kojii???” In that exact moment, right before he reacted, I knew I fucked up. His faces wrinkles up and he starts to cry. I feel like an asshole and say sorry but he’s already getting up and leaving. I try and convince him to stay, which he would’ve done when he was younger, but he’s capable of making his own decisions now. He cries and leave the room, holding his workbook by the corner. I feel like shit for a moment and then turn back to my computer, hit play, to continue watching or doing whatever meaningless crap that was more important than my little brother. 

I see this moment vividly. I always revisit again and again. That was my last moment with him before he entered his preteen age. I think it was right when Covid started. I moved into a friends house during Covid and then left for Yosemite. When I finally return home, he’s much taller, older, more quiet. We don’t talk. It’s not like before when he used to be so excited to give me a hug whenever I came home. I’m so sorry I fucked up Kojii. I’m so sorry. 


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