“Shut up your not even related to me” I yelled as I slammed my door and ripped the small booklet apart. I gasped for breath as I rubbed brown makeup on my arm- blending it in with purple to look like a forming bruise. I circled my fingers around it and my breathing calmed- I knew what I said was hurtful-the moment I said it I regretted it. I over reacted again. A disagreement over a minsicule detail turned into hitting, screaming, hurtful words and me ripping an object that represented my brother’s love for me. A story he wrote in kindergarten about a boy who had an adventure and found a treasure in a cave and sold it all to buy his sister-me- a tea set, I washed the makeup from my arm with my tears as I cried into my pillow.
How could I say anything so hurtful to him? Saying he wasn’t a part of our family making him feel like an outcast? The heat of the moment caught me and hurtful words exited my mouth at that moment we both stopped realizing how far I had gone-and in that moment he forgave me but I still don’t forgive myself.
Zack is my brother-he is the one who played barbies with me, the one who cleaned my room. So I could go to an amusement park.
We fight, scream and exchange words but never have I said that phrase again-even in the heat of the moment.