Freezing

I was supposed to be at work today. And I did actually wake up early enough to go to work. But I had a(nother) rough night, and still felt pretty miserable, and couldn’t stop coughing, so I called in sick.

There was snow on the balcony, a thin layer of white on the branches and a puddle of water which overnight had turned into a thin sheet of ice. The temperature had plummeted to below freezing in the last two days, and so has relations at home.

Had the most stupidest argument over the most trivial thing two nights ago. This time it was about curtains. The curtains in his room had been washed, and I hung them up again after they were dry.

Later that night I was condemned because the curtains were not hang up properly and were not ironed. Apparently, some of the hooks came loose, even though I made very sure that every single hook was in place earlier in the afternoon. It was half past twelve, past midnight, and I said I’ll iron the curtain and hang them up again tomorrow. I thought that was the end.

But no. No, no. Like always when someone else does something wrong, however trivial and however small, it’s a great sin. A tirade went on for the next ten minutes about how lazy and sloppy I am, about the terrible things I’ve done and about how again I’m neglecting my duties at home.

I repeatedly said I’ll do it again, and that this really is nothing to be so worked up about. He just didn’t stop, and went on and on. I walked out the room, and apologised. I admitted how wrong I was, how wrong I always am and always will be, and how right and perfect he is and always will be. I went to bed, and tried to sleep, but could still hear the murmur of complaints behind closed doors.

I lay in bed, wondering what I ever did to deserve this… this horrible person of a brother. It’s not enough that he made my childhood a living horror, not enough that I had to go to therapy because of the things he did. And until this day continues to torment me with his explosive temperament and bossy attitude, his hypocrisy and tyranny.

It’s not really hatred I feel toward him, more disappointment and sadness…And I pity him… pity how he doesn’t know how to talk without raising his voice… pity how he doesn’t see the good side of others and instead believes he can do no wrong… pity him because he doesn’t understand all these terrible things he says and does to people will one day come back to him. How miserable he must be.

I lay in bed, wondering how he could sleep at night.

But I couldn’t sleep myself.