I dunno but for some reason, this idea has been on my mind for a while so I thought I'd share. Maeve and I were sorta talking about it in the car on our way to Panera yesterday; the way each of you (from my group of friends) is kinda like their own character in a way. I'm not quite sure how to explain it, but it's almost as though I thought about you as the role you played in my life, as opposed to an actual person/human being... teehee. Remember, some of these descriptions may be a tad bit exaggerated, seeing as they're more character-like...
Without further ado, I present to you The Brothers.
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Life with 8 brothers isn't exactly easy.
Don't get me wrong, I love each and every single one of them, and it does have its perks, but then there's only so much teasing you can take before you spontaneously combust :P
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Yan Diego is my blood brother. All 18 years, 5 feet 7 inches, and 102 pounds of him are related to me. Growing up, I was his copy cat. I did everything he did. Worshipped him, if you will. After he turned 13 and became a "teenager", he decided he was too cool for me, so I built a path of my own. Nowadays (when I see him, that is), he'll be clutching a George R.R. Martin book or otherwise have stacks of blank paper ready to be filled with pen markings and unspeakable imaginary creatures. He'll have his dark brown waves pulled back in a ponytail, framing his angular face while he works. He'll blast his messy room with the Arctic Monkeys and kick me out so he can Skype his girlfriend, Hannah, 'till the dead hours of the morning. He'll treat our dog, Suki, like a princess and sleep with her every night. His closet is filled with black, brown, and grey, just the way he likes it. He'll wear a singular pair of shoes for an entire year and once they've worn out, he'll buy the same kind. These days, he won't bother unless I bring up boys, and he'll go batshit crazy on me. It's amusing, to say the least. Despite being 66.1 miles away for nine months of the year, you don't feel all that far. Yan Diego is an artist. He's a comedian. He's a writer. He's a musician. He's an actor. He's a performer. He's a nerd. He's an asshole. But he's my brother. And rightfully so.
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Brandt is my sunshine. I've never met a single other person on this Earth who took so much pride in their appearance almost as much as their social media. He'll carefully pick out a bowtie for each day of the week, but not before consulting someone to see if it matches his outfit. His hair will be perfectly coiffed at 7:30 each morning and remain that way for the next 24 hours. Brandt has this indescribable ability to make me laugh at absolutely any given moment. He'll send me links to all his favorite indie songs. He'll carry tea with him wherever he goes. He'll doodle cats into the corners of everything. If you even mention the word Lorde, he'll geek about her for hours. He'll make every opportunity a Snapchat opportunity. He'll sit at a picnic table with me for hours as we both ramble off our problems, and even if they haven't been solved in the least, I feel so much lighter. Cucumber slices tend to go with him at all times. Good for the soul, I guess. He constantly babbles about neglecting his Insta and so he'll have to take at least one good artsy picture, no matter where he is. I love how we can talk about our mutual hatred for our medication and remind each other of our nightly visits to the infirmary. Brandt is my goto ray of sunshine. Some things will never change.
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Tom will forever be my optimistic buddy. Even though I have to look all the way up whenever we speak, I still pride myself in giving the best hugs, no matter the height difference. I hardly see him, seeing as we live in two completely different worlds, but when I do, months could've passed and we'd still continue right where we left off. Extremely ginger, and extremely hyped up on coffee, Tom somehow manages to always have a smile on his face, even when the rest of the world is crumbling down. At least that's how I see it. When the rest of us are going nuts over everything and anything, Tom pops in with a hug and a smile and a flannel, not ready to let his best friends go to pieces. Recently, I feel like we don't speak as often as we used to just because of chaotic schedules, but Tom is always there when I need him. For Christmas, I got him a panda pillow pet whom he dubbed Reginald. I gave it to him four months late, but he didn't mind. Funny how life works; by chance, I got to meet him simply because he was best friends with my already pseudo-older brother. Berklee 2k14 was where we met. And I thought he hated me for the first two and a half ours of our greeting. But then I had my laugh attack, and he found my laugh to be hysterical. And so we were friends. And that was that.
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Tiernan is my sassy, wise mentor. He was my first friend out of the crew, introducing himself to me when I was just a teeny little freshman. He gets my Hispanic-ness probably more than anyone at the Abbey seeing as he'd spent a lot of his time living around Dominicans for part of his life. T takes up the role of the relentless, teasing older brother. He finds every single opportunity he can to embarrass me or bug the heck outta me. It usually ends in a battle of wits or otherwise, a tickle fight. (I always win, muahaha) My favorite times are our battles of the high notes. (again, I always win, muahaha) That boy takes so much pride in his hair, it's unreal. We share a love for the theater and a love for performance that is much too hard to explain in any way other than the time he made me listen to the entire soundtrack of the broadway production of Catch Me If You Can on the bus to NAIS. I've stolen his hats more times than one. He pretends to be bothered and yet he never asks for them back. He'll get into those rare, comforting moods where he'll hug me out of the blue and let me use him as a pillow (many, if not all the brothers take up this occupation). Seeing as he's away from his two younger sisters for most of the year, he fills up his quota of teasing through me for nine months at a time. Despite being annoying as hell, you give me your honest opinion about everything, and for that I couldn't be more grateful.
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Caellum Daniel Kerr is my ridiculously tall, ridiculously talented, ridiculously punny best friend. After spending an entire year in intimidation, he and I became really close at the start of my sophomore year. Always dressing in the same much too pop, much too punk outfits, he'll always end up stealing something of mine, whether that's my sunglasses, or even my purple cat onesie (there's photo documentation of this). He was the only one to convince me to ride every single rollercoaster in Disney World. We made a good team. We'll break out into some sick Crywolf harmonies while we're chilling in the stairwell or messing around in the band room. Our conversations go from serious, to ridiculous, to hilarious, to so deep you can't even see us. I've seen him cry once and that one moment made me instantly wish I could take care of him as much as he takes care of me. We have more inside jokes than I can count and more meaningful conversations than I can give thanks for. He's threatened on multiple occasions that he'll kick some very sorry ass if he needs to. This incredibly friendly Tree Person, coffee addict, gamer, writer, singer, actor, performer, poet, pop punk, geeky, Star Wars nerd has made me laugh and made me cry more times than I can count. He smiles every time I tell him his eyes look green. He'll laugh when I laugh and be incredibly distraught when I cry. Occasionally, he'll wander off into his own world but he always comes back. And Caellum, no matter how hard you try, you will always be an indecently sized kicking rock :) I shall not obey.
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Mike is my very first brother away from home. My first year at the Abbey, he almost took the role as my surrogate parent. He made sure I ate, and slept, and de-stressed as much as possible. He was my pillow, my extra sweatshirts, and my shoulder to cry on. Our mutual love for Brother Bear resulted in me calling him Sitka, and to this day, that is his name in my phone. His unruly hair always framed his dorky smile and big, brown eyes so much that I could've sworn he was a bear in another life. He hasn't fully been in dress code a single day of his life and refuses to shave due to laziness. He'll drum on anything and everything, whether that's his legs, or a table, or even me. I've never seen someone consume so much coffee and Mountain Dew in such a short amount of time. His text spelling is so bad that it's made me able to read any degree of drunk texting with ease. He'll manage to embarrass me in the most horrendous, dad-like ways about the most humiliating things. And yet, he'll never say no to giving me a hug or a kiss on the crown of my head, or squeezing my hand when I'm freaking out or poking me in the ribs so I'll lighten up. We've gone through heaven and hell together and he knows me inside and out. He will forever be the first one to ever have called me "little one" and will forever be the first one to know about my Darkest Day. Despite all his mistakes and wrongdoings and slip-ups, I've forgiven him every single time because he is my family. And no matter how stubborn he is or how angry he makes me from time to time, a simple laugh attack will generally cure anything. Thanks for sticking by me, Sitka. It means more than you know.
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Fonts, believe it or not, is my rock. And before you come to criticize me about my unbelievable cheesiness, understand that what I'm saying is true. No matter how old I get, I'll always be "kiddo". It doesn't matter how many miles there are in between us, he'd trek all 522.5 just to make sure I'm okay. He's the oh-so-wise college one who tells me of all the absolutely ridiculous things he does and their consequences, just so I won't do the same thing. Funny how we barely spoke at all last year, and this year--the year you've been gone--you got to know me better than anytime you were here in person. Distance makes the heart grow fonder, I suppose. You were the only one to listen to me all the way into the wee hours of the morning when I was going through a really rough spot this year. You threatened to kick multiple butts if you needed to. You've spent hours at a time convincing me of what a wonderful person I am and never to think less of myself. You taught me to be confident. You taught me to be strong and independent. You taught me to think positively despite the circumstances. You try and act cool with your jokes and your stories and your bass, but we all know the Disney-loving, huggy, geeky genius behind those 3am drunk text messages. I miss you so much and can't wait to have you back next week. You keep us all together. I wouldn't have it any other way.
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Javier is my little munchkin. He's growing older and wiser every day, and yet I still remember the day Yan Diego and I picked out his name. We were little 8 and 5-year-olds, but we were dead set on naming our soon-to-be little brother Javier Alberto. And so we did. Javier has been an old soul ever since I can remember. He'd use words that were much too big for his age and expressions that only mature adults would use. Just like Yan Diego and I, he's always had quite a small frame, but by no means does that limit his crazy talented performing abilities. He's barely ten years old and yet he already dances better than any other kid far beyond his years. For this and many other reasons, he's had girls chasing after him for years on end. Funnily enough, when I told him about CJS, he tried giving ME relationship advice! He inherited his thirst for literature from me. Over the summers, he and I challenge each other to how many books we can read in a month. He's won countless spelling bees, a myriad of math contests, and been the prime example for his peers. On top of all his intellectual achievements, he is probably the absolute sweetest, most caring little boy I've ever had the pleasure of meeting. He cares so deeply about everyone, it's almost unnatural. He'll spend his time reading, or writing, or dancing, or making videos with his 4th grade friends, or solving riddles, or just being plain weird. In recent years, he's taken up poetry because of me, and for this and his many other achievements, I could not be more proud. I'm not looking forward to the day he grows taller than me, but even then, he'll still be my multi-talented baby brother. Te quiero de aqui hasta la luna, Javi. Al infinito y mas alla.
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And there you have my wild band of brothers. I am so fortunate to call them my family and I cannot thank any of them enough for all that they've done for me.
Believe it or not, I got kinda emotional while writing this, but that's unimportant :P
Hasta la próxima!
Much love xoxo
Maya
