I can heal you, but who can heal this wounded healer? Part 1

I have always been supportive to help others, but for me it is hard to heal myself. My sadness has always been present just hidden. I fear my agony would soon completely mutate to senseless hatred. I see strangers with a cynical eye and see there motives as purely for their own. This would supports why I feel a burning anger toward wealthy people, who can afford to live life without worries and buying useless crap as if it was to taunt the working class.

I feel there is no one I can truly expose myself completely. My older brother Andy thinks my actions/emotions are stupid and often makes me feel like shit for such acts. He always been a kind of role model and since I lost my sense of Chinese language I can't connect to my dad. I see Andy as my role model because he gets things done and do it with overbearing confidence (Clear Contrast to me). But its just hard to look up to someone that wants you to do things by yourself and learn without assistance. I may have a stronger physical power, but I sometimes lack the oversight of knowledge. It is a kind of love and hate bond. I am sure if the times comes where I will need his backup, he will be there.

Ending on that note, it draws on one of my life stories. This should take place around the late year of elementary school. As a Chinese boy, I always done my work and try to find good friends(hopefully). One of the things I done was joining a snack club with my friend Georgy. This friend of my Georgy was larger than me and was very active in the sport light. One day, Andy and his two best friend Edwin and Ye-Qin had a day off. They decided to visit me at school and it was during my gym in the schoolyard. Andy and his friends grabbed the school gate and together said "YOU SUCK". My nickname would be reveal as my actions would soon reveal. I was playing around with some kind of ball and at a distance the words would stab my ears. My hands drew quickly to cover it. But these hands are not large enough to cover my tears as my role model made such mockery of me. I couldn't stop it from pouring and it still stings to this day. My heart would lock in this hatred and forgiveness for those fiends are futile. My friend Georgy was the first of many to come rushing to the sounds of my howl. Georgy would guard me by saying "Shut up!". Soon the gym teacher Mr. Flamingo would come and say "Who is making fun of you?", I bitten my lower lip and the words would crawl out mixed with my tears "My Brother". Quite the role model and brother to have. This adventure would not stop here, Stay Tune for Part 2.