Faded Childhood
I remember him as a child. He was the most adorable child I ever saw. Pinky cheeks, reddish lips, wide eyes, long eyelashes, chubby, and extremely CUTE. To me, he was literally 'a5ir el3engood'. He was the last hope of a second son for my parents. In fact, it took them sometime to believe that they have a second son; a dream coming true for them I guess. He grew up surrounded with love all around him, with five elder sisters and two mothers.
I remember him as a child. I used to read him bedtime stories. He LUVED them. The Prince & Princess, The Flying Saucer, Red Riding Hood, Hansel & Gretel...etc. He never slept until I reached the end of the story. He didn't like it when I used to change some events of the story. He was just the perfect little brother. "WAS".
I find it ridiculous to type a post about him. I am very angry right now and in shock comparing the little boy he used to be, and whom he's grown to be after 10 years.
I just had a big fight with him because of his disrespectful attitude, discusting words coming out of his mouth; I've just had enough. He never shows any form of gratitude for the time I spent with him as a child. Okay he was young. He does not remember. How about now when I spend hours explaining the lessons he missed (because of being kicked out of the classroom). I don't really know who to blame here. Is it my mom? Dad? Family? ME? Its very annoying to see that my brother is getting worse by the second, and no one seems to care. All they do is spoil him more and more and more and more. The results? DISRESPECT. DISRESPECT. DISRESPECT. DISRESPECT.
The only hope I'm hanging on to is: "He will grow up someday, and realize the mistakes he's been doing." OR "Ofcourse he appreciates what we're all doing for him. He's just too young to express gratitude."
E7tiram alkabeer, wal3a6f 3ala e9a'3eer. Thats what we all learned starting at a very young age. Is it applied?! Thats the question. Should we still bring more children to this world?! Thats also another question. A forbidden one.
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