Letter 3
"Cause you never think the last time is the last time. You think there will be more. You think you have forever but you don't."
The way I talk about my parents may give you a wrong view of my life. Well, not wrong but not accurate at least. I have a brother. A wonderful, beautiful and caring little brother. I already know that he will be the popular boy every girl wants. He is the most important thing in my life, and i couldn't imagine life without him. Without the way he bites on his lip when he is concentrated, without the way he stutters when he is nervous. Without the way he laughs and says "the good old times.", eventhough he is only eight, or the way he pronounces my name. It's my favourite way to pronounce my name. It's kinda like Faaaaaye. I love him. He is over six years younger than me. I guess you could say, he is a whole other generation, and we don't really have things in common, but we do. When i watch him frown, I see myself in his little dark brown eyes, that remind me of little planets. When he lies, his smile goes down, and everytime I see how he tries to cover his upside-down smile, i see myself doing the exact same six years ago. I see myself in the way he advertises people. In the way he tries to see the best in everything and everyone. The way he never sees how much he really means to me. The last day I spent with him was horrible. He had a bad day at school, and was mad at everything and everyone. I sat in my room and cried. I cried because I knew what was about to happen. My mom putted him to bed, and then joined my father with sleeping, because he already slept since 6pm. I couldn't sleep. I mean i tried, but nothing really worked. And then, at 2am, I heard my brother crying. I got to his room and talked to him. I tried to comfort him, i really did. But in the End, the only thing i could do was holding his hand and singing him to sleep. One i thought he was sleeping already I wanted to stand up, but he grapped my arm and whispered "Please don't leave me." Maybe, just maybe, that was a sign. As if he knew what I was about to do. As if he knew what was about to happen. And that I couldn't stop it. but I stayed. I stayed a last time, and cried myself to sleep quietly, so that he wouldn't notice. So that he could grab my arm and cuddles up to me. I didn't wanted that to be the last time. I wanted to do that the next thousands of nights, but deep inside, I knew that I couldn't. And that I would have to leave to safe him. To safe Us. And maybe only to save me. He would get the third letter. The longest.
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