Our broken parts

𝐎𝐍𝐄//SYDNEY

GOD, I HATE MY LIFE.

With an apostrophe. Every little occurrence and event that bleeds into my life is supposedly significant to a bigger picture that'll eventually make sense later on. 'It's all a part of Gods plan' as they say it. Wrong comes to you but good will eventually blossom from that wrong. But how long does a girl have to wait until it blossoms? I'm starting to think I'm a late bloomer.

If the big man himself hit me with a notice that claimed that I was coming in a little late, it wouldn't come as a surprise. Puberty only decided to show up on my doorstep when I was fourteen so it was always a little awkward for me when my friends would mention anything growth related, since I still had the body of an eight year old. It was simultaneously the best and worst years of my life. Thank fuck that's over.

'Joseph, stop it.' I shake the four foot boy off my leg. It's barely been three hours and he's beginning to grow restless already. 'Ten more minutes and then I'll be done. I promise you.'

'You said that an hour ago.' He groans. I'm beginning to miss the days when he had no concept of time. He'd sit with his toys as a toddler and wouldn't wine unless he was hungry or needed changing. 'You promised we'd go watch the new movie on the big screen today,'

'The cinema? Right. I remember. I made the promise and I plan on keeping it.' I pick up the pot that I previously filled with water and I move it onto the stove. 'Let me focus on the food please. If I burn them again, āyí will kill me. Do you want Aunty to murder me Joseph?'

Fully expecting him to confidently say yes, he's unexpectedly quick to shake his head. At least he has the cognitive ability to register that he needs me alive if he wants someone to purchase him a movie ticket. 'Then go sit over there for—'

'But it's almost been ten minutes.' He protests against letting go of my leg. It would be great if he did so I can function like everyone else in this society. He's so stubborn it reminds me of myself. I already exist in my own body, I don't need to have to face another one of me outside my own existence.

'Do you want me to call your mother?' That shuts him up. There is no change in hell she'd slide her sons desire to watch a movie into her assumably tight schedule. My sister works with convenience whilst I work on a whim. It's why she's successful and—admittedly—I'm not.

Usually, I pull the snitch card out on him when he decides that my own voice isn't worth listening too. Granted, I would never call my sister on her son as it would require me to actually talk to her for longer than I have to. It's not like I've never voiced that opinion aloud so he genuinely believes my bullshit.

In her defense she's not all to bad. Claiming my relationship with my sister is below shit would be an obvious lie. We're still on speaking terms but that's about it, the last time we've hung out besides when I pickup Joseph was over two years ago. Which is a damn lot of time since the only other immediate family I have alive is my bother but he may as well be a stranger to me.

What's sadder is if anyone is to blame for our fallout it would be me. She did everything in her power to keep our relationship stable since the eight year age gap between us wasn't helping at all. The ten year gap between my brother and I killed our relationship as a whole. He was never one to talk so the lack of communication pushed us away.

The most abundant interaction I've ever had with him is at family gatherings otherwise, as said before, he's just a stranger who happens to share my gene pattern. Depressing isn't it.

'Da xia?! How many times must I call you.' My birth name is screeched so loud I almost can't hear the speaker that has been replaying a what makes you beautiful parody all afternoon. Aunty is so adamant that western music would draw in more customers and I've offered my assistance on choosing songs which weren't off key covers claiming our food is organic. But she refused. Apparently me living in the west for five years means nothing to her.