family

we don't have an easter dinner.
we don't really do things that other
families would. my dad was diagnosed with
squasmos cell cancer, and when he went in for his
all-clear scan, they discovered that he had lung cancer.
he is now down a lung and seventy pounds. to give
you an idea, he weighs less than 130. previously
he weighed 200, and was all muscle because he
worked his business all by himself.

my father's tastebuds
don't work anymore. my father's
saliva glands; they don't work anymore.
but we're all still fighting.

i have two biological brothers.
they're twins. all throughout my childhood
i was attached to their side, until, one day,
they decided to detach. and from that point on
i began to see myself as
alone.

my mum had my dad, my brothers had each other,
and I had no one. i saw them as a happy group,
and i was the extra part. i never really got
that idea out of my head.

when my dad got sick, we stopped having family meals.
my brothers are in college now, and i'm a freshman
in high school. it's not a brilliant idea, nor a beautiful
one. it's simply the truth. and in a way, we're doing
okay. my mum, still glued to my dad, my brothers still
glued to one another, and me
trying to uphold all four walls
by myself.