It’s times like these when she wished she had a brother, an elder brother. A brother with whom she could share anything and everything, without the fear of being judged, accused, abandoned or ashamed. A brother who she could call up at any hour of the day, to cry about her heartbreaks, her sorrows, her downfalls. A brother upon whom she could trust completely. A brother to share her joys with, to celebrate with the one who cares!
A brother to take her to places where she wouldn’t have gone without an escort. She would have opened up to him entirely, leaving not a single bit behind. He would know that his sister was an adorable little psycho and he would be fine with it. Because he would understand. He would have experienced the same kind of things that she had experienced at some point in his life. It would feel good for him as well, to have someone to share his knowledge of life with, the way he learnt it. He would try and correct his little sister whenever he felt like she’s taking a wrong decision, the wrong path. And she would always listen to him, no matter what, because he would be the only one who completely understands her!
Sometimes at night when she’s alone, she cries aloud, “Oh brother, why do I always cry for you even when I know you don’t exist?” How is it possible for someone to cry over something which never existed in the first place?