Forgotten

I had a big brother. He was the best brother I could've had. He cared for me so much and loved me dearly. Ever since our parents died from traffic accident, he had been working very hard while juggling about his studies. I wished I could do something to help him, to ease his burden, but he said that I didn't need to do anything, that I just need to focus on my studies and live the best life I could.

One day, after coming home from fishing at the lake near our house, my brother looked upset and enraged. He kept quiet when I asked him what happened. He started skipping school, but he went who-knows-where outside every single day, and came home almost midnight every time. He wouldn't say anything, but I knew he was crying behind his pillow every night.

It sort of became a habbit, and it got even worse. He lost appetite and became skinnier. My dear brother... I could do nothing to make him better. A year, then two, then three... And in the next year, he was completely gone. He went somewhere and never returned. I waited and waited, until the house began to rot and crumble, like my bones in the desolated rice field. 

And here, I'm still waiting, for my brother to come home and find me.