I’m sorry for being mean.

For lack of better word, I guess that’s the closest terminology to put it.

Yes, whether I admit or not, I am being mean to my oldest brother. I don’t want to. REALLY. But I guess he has to understand life that way even at that expense.

He is lacking responsibility and he wouldn’t flinch. We are all trying to help him but he makes himself helpless. I definitely hate to say that last statement. I love him and I want him to learn. Now I have to step up as a sister to help him realize that. We care for him very much, we cannot tolerate misbehavior.

Honestly, I am the only one from the family with whom he actually acknowledges reproach. He knows my words are true. He hears my father but he doesn’t heed. No, he’s not disrespectful; he just can’t be responsible for his actions. And for that, other complications arise. And other people—us, in the family—suffer.

My siblings and my father respect my role as the “mean sister.” I’m really sorry. I pray that you’d open your eyes, Kaka.