Bloody brothers. I hate them.

Mine is younger to me by 2 and a half years but acts like HE'S older. He's the only person I've ever told to fuck off. I can't help it. He makes me want to tear my hair out and just let loose with the screaming. He has reduced me to an IronMaiden listening-journal ranting-cursing teenager.

I never wanted to be that kid. The kind who shouts, slams doors, hurls abuses and exclaims "You don't understand me!" and "You're ruining my life!" at random intervals. The lines are said to the 'rents when they talk in that irritatingly calm voice that basically just sides with your little brother over the voice of reason [a.k.a. Me] and in doing so, irritate you even more. But that's exactly who I HAVE become - I am loath to admit. So cliche.

The latest annoying incident concerning the fraternus irritatus is him sauntering into MY room, taking away MY bottle of Coke and walking away with it. All the while blatantly ignoring my shouts. Aaaargh. You don't take away my Coke! It's just not done. My fixation with having my own Coke is like Joey's with food. [Joey doesn't share his FOOD!] But, my dear little annoying brother did just that. Took away my Coke. And then proceeded to ignore me when I asked him to return it. Just because he's had a bloody growth spurt and I can no longer beat him up. Uff. How I long for those days when *I* was the one throwing HIM onto the sofa and having the power to beat him to pulp.

Sigh. Good times.