“My brother became my moon, and I became his dust.”

No one in this world is born destined to love someone else—but I was. I live for my brother.

I love him. I really could die for him.

I’ve tried to find a reason for it. I couldn’t. Maybe it’s because he picked me up off the streets. Maybe that alone meant I should love him.

My brother doesn’t know—every time he hits me, every time he yells at me, it only makes me more excited. Maybe, in front of him, I’ll always be a filthy, worthless wretch that doesn’t deserve the light of day.

I put my brother on a pedestal like he’s a god—so pure he practically glows—while I trample myself into the ground, branding my body with every dirty, disgusting word there is.

Thinking about it that way… maybe it’s not so wrong for a toad to covet a swan.

Because the filthier and more disgraceful a thing is, the more it craves what is clean, pure, and noble.

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