Unloved

I was walking upstairs to my room. My brother was coming towards me, a wide smile on his face.

I was angry. I was tired. And I didn't want to leave Brunei, but that's what ended up happening. And apart from that my brother had a village idiot smile on is face.

My brother must have noticed that I didn't look happy, because he stopped, and his expression changed from the grin to puzzlement.

“What's up with you?” he asked.

“What do you think?” I retorted, annoyed that he had asked such a stupid question.

“I haven't the foggiest. What's up?” he asked again.

“Haven't you noticed that we're leaving the country tomorrow? Doesn't that mean anything to you?”

I asked, as anger swelled up inside me.

A wide grin spread across my brother's face.

“Why are you so happy?” I asked, accusingly.

“Same reason your not,” he said in a cold voice, as his eyes bored into mine, never wavering. His face morfed into a twisted smirk as he said it.

We had lived in Brunei for 6 years now, and to me it was like home. I had lots of friends, lots to do, I loved it. But my brother was different. He had never wanted to move away from Australia to Brunei, he had never wanted to like Brunei, so he didn't try to. He stayed home almost all week every week. When he did go out his pessemistic attitude didn't bring him a good reputation. And if someone tried to get into a conversation with him he would answer questions in short one, or two word answers. Never speaking his own opinion. Always socializing as little as possible.

He had always wanted to go back to Australia, and now he had his wish.

“How can you not like this place?” I said, as anger inside me started the countdown to detonation and therefore explosion.

“Think about all the friendly people there are here, and you wasted away 6 years as a miserable teenager who sits at home all day and does nothing but read, watch TV and play on the computer. Never trying to be happy. I know there's not a whole lot of great places to see, like there are in Australia, but what about friendship?” I said all this in a rather pleading voice, trying to convince him of something.

But as I finished saying it his eyes went wide with anger and his mouth formed a thin, straight line. And I knew instantly that I had gone to far, but it was too late.

“Do you think I like not having friends?” he roared.

“You've seen me. I never go to Youth Group. I hate Church. If you're in church you're always sitting with a group of friends and talking. And you know what I'm doing? I'm sitting alone reading a book or just looking around and being bored. When you're on Facebook chatting to friends I'm watching TV or reading or playing computer because I'm bored out of my brains. Do you think I like any of that?”
 He'd finally stopped shouting and I stared at him, stunned, as his chest rose and fell rapidly in sync with his breathing.

I thought over everything he had said. And as I processed it in my head I realised the truth of it all.

I tried to imagine having no friends and having a brother who out shone you concerning friendship in every way except in the way of having no friends. My brother started at me waiting for me to say something. I suddenly knew what I had that he didn't: Love. Every where I went I had people who loved me and enjoyed being with me. He didn't have that except from our parents. And so finally I understood him, and why he was happy to leave.

“I never knew you were so unhappy,” I said, slowly. His forehead creased slightly. My remark must have confused him.

“I'm sorry,” I said.

His expression softened a bit and I stared into his eyes. They were no longer the hard eyes, cold as steel, they were soft, and gentle, but still with the slightest bit of fire in them. There was a moment of understanding that cannot be put into words. Then I walked past him and was gone.