My brother just packed his luggage and left.
I even helped him close the door and turn off the switches in his room.
It hurt - felt like there was another piece torn from my family again.

My brother is an arsehole I guess. That's possibly the only relevant adjective I can use to describe him.
He's utterly selfish and insane. He feels like the whole world owes him something, and that he was like, the smartest ass on earth, that everyone had to worship one day.

He had a heated argument with my mommy the moment he entered the house. Started to rain all sorts of colorful vulgarities over the house.
It was madness. It was painful. And I guess he just didn't see it.
My mum was just trying to tell him - that she just wanted him to appreciate his house, and treat it like his home.
But he was so concerned about my mum trying to control him and restrict him that he flew into a rage without thought.
That's what I call imbecile.

At the age of 23. Without even a diploma. Holding a lousy 'O' Level score.
And he dares to threaten my mum - that she would regret ever chasing him out of the house when she didn't.
He was the one who did.

I guess his heart was never with us anyway.
It's really painful to me too.
Knowing that a brother so dear has gone to another family.
Maybe he just couldn't feel that connection anymore.
Maybe he just needed more.
But I guess all we ever needed from him, was a little more understanding and patience.

Wherever that wise discerning chap went,
I hope he finds his way home soon. His real home.

Sylvia. Syl. And someone you'll never expect me to be.