To my brother...

I never talked about you to anyone. I never was proud of you. I never wanted you in the first place. Everything was full of hate. I was full of hate, all I've given you was hate and pain. As you grew up and as I become older, I was not any bit wiser.

I hated you for all the wrong reasons. It wasn't your fault that our lives were in the dumps, that we grew up not knowing where our next meal would come from. It's not the son's fault that his Father was a sinner (after all, we all are). It's not your fault that we had to suffer from your Father's carelessness or lack of care and responsibility in the first place.

You were born when I was 7. I had to take care of you while mom was out looking for a job, or when she finally had one, I had to stay home and look after you. As you grow older and we continue to move from town to town, city to city, looking for cheaper houses to rent; I had to juggle being your older brother and earning from the streets. It was hard, the long walks, the hot sun, the shameless yelling and peddling, carrying that basket of good from across town. It wasn't easy being the eldest, and you know what? It wasn't easy to hear you cry because you don't have any milk. It broke my heart yet I can't do anything, kuya was not able to sell enough goods to buy you milk. Whenever you had asthma attacks, it was never easy to see mom burst into tears not knowing where to get the money to buy your expensive medicines. It was never easy for me thinking that you would suffer and die just because we didn't have any money. If kuya have been older that time, I might have crawled my self into prostitution, but no, I wasn't. I was only a kid and I didn't know what to do.

Your father died when you were only a baby. Mom was devastated, but I was happy. It was one of the happiest moments of my childhood life. We did survive without him, and was happier, at least I was.

You grew up like any ordinary baby to a toddler, to a young kid. Until I noticed you can't speak well. Mom never knew regarding my thoughts about the matter, but I was worried that you were sick. As you grew up, the manifestations of your mental shortcomings began to show. Not long, you were diagnosed with MID (Mild Intellectual Disability). Mom purged all her money to your checkups and schooling. While I... In silence and in my head...  Wanted you to be as normal as you can be. 

You gained medals in school that your kuya never had in his academic life. I am proud of you for taking care of mom as I went away at age 18. 'though you did ran away when you were younger and was lost for three years, you were miraculously brought back knocking to our tiny apartment's door one day.

How I wish you can read well, so you can read this letter of mine. Telling you how sorry I am for not being a good brother to you. I am proud of you, bro. You and mom will never go hungry again, neither of us will. We will lead better lives and you will be a better boy. Kuya will always be here, as I learn to let go the of the hate I had and learn to love you more.

I'm sorry for all the pain I've caused.

Andito na ang kuya.