Brother

Eyes glance over him as he walks the halls, just trying to fit in. Always standing by a group, never within. Yeah he’s somewhat different, he’s dealt with it his whole life. And I’ve watched him all this time...Kids would push his buttons just to see how far they could go. I’d look up and think oh no...He was crying and sad, but mostly he was just mad...This rage that festered within him only built up over time. And when I was just eight I knew I had to stop him from crossing the line. This meant I had to play mediator at all times...After school especially, when he would stand there helplessly, listening to taunts and taking dodgeball after dodgeball from his enemies...Until he snapped and ran at them, again and again...I got between both him and them and grabbed his weak arms, shouting stop through the mayhem and wondering why they harmed...Why did this always happen? What was their passion?...It got better over time. He learned to use his words and say his lines...They slowly backed off, grew up, and stopped committing the crimes. And now we’re back to present day time...