When I was a kid, I used to read to my youngest brother every night. We read Martha Speaks, The Little Prince, The Puppy who Wanted a Boy, The Giving Tree, and many others like it. I look back at those times and miss them the most.  He spent some time with some people who really messed him; physically, emotionally, mentally, every other which way. I love him so much, but sometimes I miss who he was and the times we’d spend together. He isn’t good at being around people anymore, even family. He was always my favorite person and I look back and remember the horrible sister that I was, and wish that I had been better. I wish that I had been the person he could count on when the world failed him. I was too self-absorbed to notice that he needed me. I was too vain to hang out with my little brother. I could have and should have been there for him. But I wasn’t and I don’t know how to fix it now. I went online about a year ago and bought all those books I used to read to him when we were little. I keep wanting to give them to him maybe for his birthday or for Christmas. I wonder if he would remember, if he would care… if maybe they would make him happy, at least for a little while. If maybe he would remember the good times and smile. Just once for me. 

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<3 Wrath

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    Things I may tell you while we're hiding from zombies or stuck on a small boat or locked in a closet together... You probably don't really wanna know. 


    September 2013