Open letters to the brothers
Remember? When we were young we took baths together, we slept in one bed, we had showers under the rain, we laughed senseless. We fought a lot, too, and you strangled me an awful lot of time.
There were times then when I thought that you only saw me as a younger girl who you could order around, and not as your younger sister who needed some tendah lovin' care. (-:
Remember when you emptied my red piggy bank because I lost in our stupid Funny Komiks bet, huh? huh? I was crying while you were doing it but you had this sinister look, like, "Wuhahaha! Coins, Lots of coins!" (-:
But then came the time when you would be the one slaving over my school projects, when you'd be the one comforting me when I was crying (even if I often did not tell you why I was crying), eventually you became my wall, but I guess you always were.
I hate it that you turn on the TV and then leave it on when you don't like the shows, I hate it that you don't wash the dishes sometimes, I hate how your room smells.
I hated it when you would rather play basketball than have dinner with us, I hated it that when we were young you made fun of me in front of your cool friends (but hey! maybe I'm just making this up! hihihi).
But you know what? You are my superlative guy. Kindest. Most handsome. Gentlest. Funniest. Most dependable. It goes on. Whenever I need something I just think of you and then my job's half done, just because I thought of you, and of how easily you can lift my worries and burdens and everything else.
I love the memories I have of you, the simple things you did for me, the hugs, the sharing of Munchees in front of the red TV, the way you protect me and Mama, the way you smile at me knowingly, the way we share secrets, the way you reveal your real self to me, and the way I feel extra jealous whenever you fancy a girl.
We were the usual cat and dog when we were little. But now, you are the wall, and I am the egg that keeps cracking against you.
And I love you because you don't mind the mess. At all.
ooOoo
Hey there, big guy.
God, you are big. Bigger than Kuya, even bigger than Ate.
How are you? Remember? I used to pretend that I was a vampire so I can scare you. I'd use Ma's eyeliner and I'd draw on my face to look like I have eyebags, fangs and blood dripping from the sides of my mouth. How you squealed! It came to a point when you'd be yelling at the simple sight of me holding something that resembles an eyeliner. I was such a sinister sister to you.
I guess that being the youngest child has taken its toll you, in some way, you were pressured and I feel that until now you find it hard to cope.
I'm sorry I haven't always been there for you. I'm sorry I couldn't answer all of your questions. I'm sorry for yelling at you even if there was no need for yelling. I'm sorry for being such a disappointment. I'm sorry. I miss you so much.
I know that if I threaten you with Ma's eyeliner now you'd just slam the door at my face, 'cause you're a punk now, right? But you know what, big guy? You will always be my little angel.
I love the way you laugh when you really mean it (because when you laugh, it is often with sarcasm, it's like you're saying: that's funny already?? aw kamon!) I like it that you barge in my room and ask me the cutest questions (Ate, seafood ba ang talong?).
I like it that you still regard me as someone who knows all the answers in the galaxy. Because then if you ask me if it was possible for human beings to love each other immensely and without expectation, I'll tell you "yes," and you'd believe me.
I love being your older sister. I love you forever.