Dear “Nice Family,”
It’s me, your eldest brother and son. You know it’s still hard to believe that even when I’m the first-born, I’m the one who’s different from this so-called “nice family.” I mean not only am I sometimes slow in understanding simple concepts, but the weird, crazy side of me seems to shame you to the public eye. Believe me I’ve tried going your ways, but at times they just didn’t feel “right” with me because in some cases I didn’t feel I was being myself. So I started to define who I am by how YOU guys see me and not how I see me. When Dad calls me stupid, I actually believe that I am stupid. When Mum calls me sensitive, I believe I am that sensitive. When my siblings call me weird, I too believe I’m that weird, like bad weird. Therefore, I am different because apparently I am not any of the things you are as what the rest of society accepts as sane or normal. I don’t seem to match the criteria of what an eldest son or brother should be like according to the rules of you and the society.
A Loco Fellow 