eccentricallyChique

only thing I miss as an immigrant was being back home, the house is full, my brothers are home, my mom is home, my dad is home, my grandma is home and she’s peeling oranges, my aunt is home, her kids are downstairs. they’re all in our big living room. And some others are upstairs in the smaller one. my brothers and the kids are running around, playing and being noisy. And they come to my door to knock often, giggle and run away. and I’m alone in my room with the door shut. I’m happy and content and I don’t feel alone. Their noise and chatter fill whatever loneliness has been crippling me most of my life. There’s lots of food. The lights are on and we are home. There’s a big pot and lots of filled plates. And we all dig our spoons into the big pot for a bite. And it’s so good because my mother made it. I haven’t had her food in a while, and I’m so hungry.

we have our ups and downs. we fight and we argue. and we make up. I get mad at them for coming into my room to say some dumb shit. but at least I’m not alone. I can walk downstairs and I’ll find them there. It’s easy to locate them. And we can gossip about our parents and relatives. And we’ll laugh because we find every little thing funny. And we talk about our crushes. And we’ll cringe and laugh but still advise each other. I don’t know why they always meet up in my room for their nightly meetings. But it means they’re comfortable. Such strange brothers. I’m the only girl. I’ll pretend I’m annoyed but I’m happy. Maybe I’ll tell them that I like women. And maybe they’ll accept me, laugh and brush it off like they do when we have serious conversations. They know it’s important but that’s how they understand. And life is good. But life is so good. I’m content and I’m happy. And we catch up. And I don’t feel alone. I don’t know what they look like anymore. I get pictures but it’s not enough. It’s been six years since we’ve all been in the same room. All I get are texts and unanswered calls. I forget to check sometimes. And I feel bad. I need to do better, so I have their chats pinned on WhatsApp. I’m doing better. I want to do, and be everything for them. But I cannot. They’ve just entered adulthood. I cannot be everything for everyone. I wonder if life is so scary for them as it is for me. I want to hold their hands (cringe). And I love them (cringe) and I miss them (cringe). And I’m so sad. And I want a full house again. Even though we’ll fight. We always fight and argue and make up. But the house is full. And I’m full and I’m content. But I’ll buy my little brother whatever he wants and he’ll be happy and I’m happy. And I’m so sad and so lonely. My mom is getting older. Dad is too. I wonder if and when diabetes will take him. I won’t be prepared. I’m never prepared for anything. In my defense no one is prepared for grief. He doesn’t call often cause he knows too well to respect me and my space. He’s just like that. I miss him. He doesn’t carry me on his shoulders anymore. I wonder if my parents are crippled with loneliness from an empty house. They have lots of grey hair now, and I should start a retirement fund for them soon. They wasted it on us. I’m only 23. But 23 is an adult and I want them to be comfortable. I always want to cry when I see my mom’s feet. And her hands. We don’t have the best relationship but I love her. I haven’t seen gradma in so long. I don’t have oranges because I can only eat the ones she makes for me. I get a little sad every time I bite into a pancake and tears pool at my eyes. She always always bought me pancakes. She’s getting older. And I’m so sad. And I want a full house again. I worry about my brothers with so much red pilled stuff online. What have they become? I’m so sad. I’m at my best friend’s house for the weekend. I get so envious when they’re downstairs and laugh and joke and it’s a full house. It feels so nice, and I don’t feel so alone. But it’s not the same as back home. I miss everyone. I miss being a kid. I want to go home to a full house. I just want a full house.