I've come to realize that Ethan and I are exaggerations of our progenitors. My dad cares little about anything. His apathy is astounding. My mom can't say no to a call for aid. We have each chosen a parent.
I took myself to ruin by putting others first. I care so little for my own mental health that I'll let myself get to the breaking point in the process of worrying about others and often base my mood on how my cadre as a whole is feeling. I can't explain why I do it. It just seems natural and right to give a damn, even when people are shouting that some friends are lost causes. Fortunately, it led to a group of friends that really cares and a reputation I'm absolutely proud of.
Ethan, on the other hand, doesn't even respect his own mother. He's short-tempered and violent. Mom often comes home crying, thinking she failed as a parent. Ethan has failed as a person. He does nothing for anyone and serves only himself and has therefore ended up with few if any friends and no confidantes to speak of.
I think I'm just waiting for WWIII. He can be just another corpse, face-down in the mud. This goes beyond sibling rivalry and well into the realm of hate. Someday in the future he's going to knock on my door. He'll be cold, hungry, penniless, and I will shut the door in his face.
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3 comments:
Much as you wish you could be so indifferent to him, as you said yourself, you cant refuse a call for help. I can't see him ever actually asking for help though.
No, James, you don't get it. If Ethan has a gun to his head, I'll make sure the gunman has the safety off. I'll cock the gun for him.
I don't give a flying fuck how desperate he is, I will not help him because he's given me nothing but sixteen years of shit. Hell with my concerned, helping nature. You have to earn it before I'll consider helping you out and in a decade and a half he hasn't done one thing that's earned my respect.
I say we knock him out, bag him, and drop him off in some secluded area. We would be helping him. Just think about it.
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