Have you ever loved and hated someone equally? If you haven't, let me tell you, it's a real bitch. When you hate the person you love everything in their life becomes a power struggle of your conscience. On the one hand, you love that person and you want to see them succeeded, flourish. On the other hand you want to see them suffer, you want them to feel every bit as bad as they make you feel. It's very tiring.
Right now I am in love/hate with Erich Varela.
First, let me explain why I love him. I love Erich because he is a god amongst men. Inside and out, the man is perfect. He's good looking; his heritage is Venezuelan, which gives him naturally dark features, deep brown eyes, chestnut brown hair and an ever present tan. This is accentuated by his athletic build, he isn't over the top with muscles, just strong and lean, the same kind of build that basketball and soccer players tend to have, which is why he excels at both those sports. Next, is that Erich is surprisingly intelligent; in school his best subjects were mathematics and science, but what I really mean is that he's always been clever, logical, methodical, calculated and calm. Finally, Erich Varela is "a people person", he's involved with three or four different school clubs and is an active member of his church's youth needs program, where he goes out and strives to… I don't know, save the world or something incredible like that, because the man is just incredible!
You love him now too, don't you? It's okay. I understand.
So, why do I hate Erich Varela? Because Erich is my older brother. No! I'm sorry, let me rephrase that. I am Erich's younger brother. You can call me that, everyone else does, friends, "Hey, how's your brother?"; Family, "Hello, dearest, where's your brother?"; Hell, I'm expecting Eric to refer to me as "Hey, my brother." any day now, just wait.
I know what you're thinking. If you're his brother aren't the two of you similar? The answer is no. Erich and I are polar opposites, he is the white to my black.
I'll be more specific. In the body I'm pretty plain; my eyes and hair are dark, but my skin is unusually pale for my heritage and I'm pretty scrawny and gangly. As for the mind, well, it's not a complete waist, my GPA is a 3.1, livable. And I'm proud to be creative, I have a talent for the arts, things like drawing, painting and writing. Unfortunately that makes me more susceptible to being emotional at times instead of cool… like him. Anyway. The most important aspect of life, as any high school student will tell you, is my social life. Or, in my case, the lack of my social life. Let's see… I am enrolled in an arts club. I never go, but I am enrolled. That's about it.
You hate me now too, don't you? It's okay. I understand.
So, your next question must be, does Erich love me back? Well, that's what this whole story is about. I don't know if he loves me, hates me or love/hates me. I can't figure it out.
The fact is, I'm Erich's biggest fan and while I'd judge that he's a pretty fair brother most of the time the fact is he doesn't tend to acknowledge my existence. Except for the occasional, "Please, pass the potatoes." Or, "Hey, did anyone call?" We barley talk.
And that's the way I like it. I get to be an up-close admirer. No lurking in the shadows for me. I could walk in on the guy masturbating and I'm not sure if he'd even stop as long as I didn't obviously stare at him. It's fantastic for my art work; I get constant ideas for paintings and drawings when I'm around him. Taken to keeping a sketch pad with me wherever I go.
Of course it isn't all shits and giggles. There were a lot of dark days. Days when I considered myself stuck with some strange sickness. I was raised a catholic and God came into the picture on a big scale for me. I had tried to resist it for a very long time, but the more I pretended the more my unconscious took over. When the wet dreams came I decided to give in. I'd pay for my misgivings in the afterlife, sure, but in the mean while I was going to make the best out of my sickness.
The real problem is, lately it hasn't been enough. I've been becoming increasingly jealous of his girlfriends, hell his regular guy friends, even. Following him around too much. He even took notice of me drawing him the other day and jokingly called me a "fag". Oh, if you only knew, bro.
I decided, today was the day! I'm going to confess my undying love for my brother. And then crawl in hole and die—no. I'm going to ask him if we can hang out. As friends more than brothers. Really attempt to ram that idea into his mind. Me, as a friend.