Electrons and Protons

By: Andrea fuguet

The only thing we have in common is the blood that runs through our veins. You can even say we look a little alike though I will tell you I don’t see it and roll my eyes.  All the resemblance I see is the pale skin that we both have. I say he’s paler and he says I am suddenly we get into fight number one million (that’s probably accurate). My mom steps to mediate and calm us down before we end up calling each other names that aren’t exactly lovely.

We don’t agree on anything. We are polar opposites. I’m a proton and he’s an electron. I’m the sky and he’s the ocean. I’m a woman and he’s a man. He’s a man of logic and I’m a woman of emotions. He’s my brother and I’m his sister.  At times I would have sworn he didn’t have any emotions.  Only thing that can get a reaction out of him are the things that defy logic and he has, needs to explain them. Daniel questions everything even the simplest of things. The day I saw a tear leave his eye I knew he wasn’t made of ice he just pretends to be.  Emotions are for weak people and he has to be strong no matter what.

He’s studying to be a doctor. Science has become second nature to him like writing has become for me. His idea of TV consists of documentaries about history and science and messed up movies no one can understand and his idea of fun is going to the internet to find out what the hell was going in the director’s mind when filming the movie. Well, that and a cold beer with his closest friends and his girlfriend.

Daniel is the smartest guy I know he can tell you all about the smallest virus, about history and stuff that you haven’t even heard of and don’t really care to hear. He will tell you anyways because he thinks that this information is cool and you just have to know. You roll your eyes and hopes he shuts up (You also want a dictionary since you didn’t catch anything he said).

I’m a writer, a dreamer, an intellectual while he’s this logical creature obsessed with perfection. He wants everything, everybody to be perfect, to be beautiful, and to be unreal. He’s a perfectionist and at times extremely critical. The bad part? His annoying perfectionism is what makes him so good at whatever he does. He doesn’t stop until it’s perfect and in the end it is.

He’s not expressive at all. He won’t tell you he cares, or that something hurts him or bothers him. He bottles it up. When he tells you something that has some emotion he means it and you can help but keep it with you.

“He really hurt me bro. He broke my heart in pieces and I didn’t deserve that.” I cried helplessly.

“That’s because he’s stupid. You’re a queen and you need to know that,” he said staring at me in the eyes. “You need to believe you’re a queen. You’re better than you think.”

This from someone who told me a week earlier that I was adopted because there’s no way in hell we were related.  

The only thing we have in common is the blood that runs through our veins and the love that runs through our hearts. And that’s okay.