This is my first meeting with my half brother who was adopted by a nice couple, but I have not seen him since he was born February 2011.
The thing is that while I am here and he is here, I still can’t understand that I am not solely here for either of us to benefit from. It is hard to understand that something so small came from and is a part of you. The point is that this little boy is my brother and yet I don’t feel any sort of connection to him. He seems to be just another little boy that you may see passing you on the street with his mother, or perhaps a child who had escaped the playground to drool on a complete stranger. None of this makes much sense and lacks in order, but contains small chaos that is hardly noticeable to an outsider. This type of chaos is apparent and utterly important to someone whom is a part of the inside, but not allured by the adorable marauder.
Sometimes, something so small and precious can be the difference between sanity and a strait jacket. It is hard to believe that I can’t feel anything toward this child. Nothing is swimming around my mind or tugging at my heart, which is confusing as anyone else in my position might feel even an inkling of something if not anything. Right now, I’m distracting myself with this little sort of blurb instead of trying to drag a sprinkle of something from my mind. Surely, there must be something wrong with me, and though my mother explains it might be shock, but I don’t feel that shock lasts eleven months. If it does, can it be possible that I have locked myself in this state for so long, when I’m emotionally open during other smaller events.
Being in a library, on the other hand, makes me wonder if the loud volumes of voices are really acceptable either to the others beyond the door and the child within. I think this is just a way for me to keep myself from throwing this laptop upon the floor.
It is quite difficult though to understand myself and how this sort of event should affect me but doesn’t. And though I know I should worry or wonder, one thought seems to escape me. The one thought that should mean more to me than anything else in the world;
This little boy is my brother.