Oh, Brother.

My brother has this permanent crown on his head. He was born with it, like another bone in his body. He lives his life, unaware of this crown, but it is obvious that it effects the decisions he makes, the things he says, the way he lives.

He pities me. I abosolutely hate that. The shitty school I go to, the lack of friends, the "attitude adjustment" I desperately need, the failure to find a job for after I graduate... The list goes on and on.

In his eyes, my choices are wrong. I should be doing this or that, I shouldn't have said this or that, I shouldn't have done this or that. Oh, Brother, I don't need your bullshit. I'll take care of me. The last thing I need is advice from a man who can't hold onto his wages long enough to know how much he's made. My $20 an hour will still go farther than your $6000 a month. It's not how much you make, but what you do with what you make.

I believe in the end, life evens itself out. I have faith in a balance universe. Even if there is such a thing as good luck and bad luck (Lord knows I've had my share of bad luck), we each get our share of both.

I choose not to be entangled in the comparison game. I do my thing the way I want, the time I want to. Brother, you can do yours. The only race I have is with myself, to push myself, to be myself.

Don't worry about me. I will go very far, even without a crown.