Sunday, April 27, 2014

Chapter 10: Brother in Arms

Dear Journal:

What am I supposed in this type of situation?

I mean, Miraj and I got along our whole lives. Suddenly he's getting into shit that he shouldn't be doing, and telling me I suck.

Just...what do I do? I know he's growing up, but I can't tell him how to live his life. I'm not Iqbal.


For the first time in our lives, we went to bed angry at each other.

But Miraj was right, I guess. It did seem hypocritical that I'd get mad at him for doing things I'm known for doing.

Come on, though. Kid knows better than that.

Still, going to bed without saying good night to your bro...Damn, that kinda smarts.

And I guess Miraj felt the same way.

Sunday, April 20, 2014

Chapter 9: Do As I Say, Not As I Do

Dear Journal:

Just what in the ever-loving fuck got into Miraj today?

I've heard of getting up on the wrong side of the bed. A few of my old classmates said I was born on that wrong side.

They clearly did not know what Miraj was like that morning. Normally, he's pretty good about getting ready for school. But not today.

He fought me every step of the way. And he was cussing up a storm the entire time. Before the bus came, it was "fuck school" this, and "fuck you" that.

To be brutally honest, it was like a completely different person had taken over. I listened to his gutter-mouth until he went to school.

And then I listened to it when he got home. But getting home, well...

Sunday, April 13, 2014

Chapter 8: Down in the Dumps

Dear Journal:

Sometimes I wonder what goes through my little bro's head.

I also wonder if he thinks everything completely through.

Apparently not.

When he said he wanted to try another route to make some extra cash, I told him he could help with the chickens.


He said it was a nice idea, but he wanted to try something else.

I thought maybe he wanted to get a job himself, or start a garden, or something.

Nope. His idea was...well, not what most people do for income. It was just...

Really, Miraj?

Sunday, April 6, 2014

Chapter 7: In Separate Bunkers

Dear Journal:

Apparently, Miraj was desperate for his own room.

He never said anything until his birthday, but then again, maybe he was still thinking about what he wanted.

The other night, he came up to me, asking me if we got enough materials to put up a few walls.


I asked him, "What for?" We had plenty of walls and junk already.

"Well, you know that unfinished shed Dad had outside? Thought I'd do something with that." When Miraj said shed, I had to remember: 'Iqbal had a shed'?