“You’re just a little cry baby.” Those were the last words my cousin said before what I did. My cousin was a jerk. When we were little, me and him used to play a lot. We were sort of like brothers. Since I have no brothers. he was and is the closest I have to a brother.  We got along most times when we were kids, but when we didn’t get along, it was brutal. Arguments started over the most stupidest things such as sharing, or winning or losing a game. I remember when we were playing air hockey in the basement of his home. We used to let each other get a point, until one day he decided that he wanted to compete with me, and he won and wouldn’t let me forget it. When he called me names such as , “loser”, “cry-baby”, or gloated about winning something, he made me cry. I probably took it for as long as it did because I either thought it was true, or I didn’t want to tell on him in fear of being a tattle-tale. When I was very upset, he laughed, or smiled. He took pleasure in my suffering like a master took pleasure in whipping. I was very vulnerable back then; I was a little kid I didn’t know how to maturely process my emotions, no 5 year old does. I hated him so much, I wanted him to die. Now I understand why he was like that, but gosh he was a headache that needed prescription  pills 24/7. Then one day, I don’t know what it was that let to this, but it need to be done.

Sometimes when people push one’s buttons to the point where the buttons are burned on to that person, one reaches a reach a boiling point. It was something that needed to be done, something that couldn’t happen any other way. One night when we were playing air hockey. He still stuck with the fact that he was competing against me. The hockey puck instantly entered my slot as if it was a gunshot. He ultimately won again, and I was boiling hot in the face and blood. Sweat loomed hastily across my face I stormed up the stairs to get away from him, and he followed. As I ran upstairs barefooted, I tripped and the burn of a grainy rug scraped my elbow.

“Would you stop following me?”, I asked him. He mocked me saying the same thing. I reluctantly pointed out,
“You won, now leave me alone.”
He continued to provoke me,
“ ‘You won, now leave me alone.’ You’re such a cry baby dude.”
“And you’re a jerk.”
“Nah, I’m just better than  you.”
“Exactly because you play games all day! How do you expect me to win against you?”
I felt my eyes swell up, my nose began to run and I paced away from him faster. I’m so distracted in my wallowing, I suddenly hear,
“Are you crying dude?”
“No.”
“Oh my God dude.”
“You just had to compete against me.”
“You can’t always win all the time.You’re a big baby.”
“You’re a bully!”
“Baby!”
“Shut up!”
         

He had me cornered upstairs. There was no way out from the hate that was coming my way. All I could smell is the snot from my runny nose. I was losing breath defending myself.  I just let him take his shots at me, particularly  because it was true and there was nothing I could do.  I was thinking about hurting him in someway, but I didn’t want to get in trouble. I wanted him to stop, but I couldn’t say anything by the fact that I was like a rainstorm with tears recklessly pouring out of my eyes. This was a four year old making me, a five year old cry. It was weak, and cowardice of me to let this happen. My eyes wouldn’t let up with the tears. My breathing hasted. I felt an impulse to do something. Then without thinking I closed my eyes, clenched my fists and I struck a blow to his face.

When I opened my eyes, I realized that I punched his nose. It started to bleed, and he started to cry. I just stood there looking at him as if he got  what deserved (and he did). I remember he was crying like a newborn baby ripped from his mother’s arms, he spit in my face and ran downstairs to tell on me. An older cousin of mine who was babysitting us heard about the whole thing, and I immediately got reprimanded. When walked back upstairs and secluded myself in a room, I leaned my arm on the dry stucco wall riddled with sadness. I initially felt bad about it, but I eventually realized that it was important because probably if I hadn’t did that, he would still be a jerk to me today because he didn’t know better then, and he sort of doesn’t know better now. In the end, it turned out that this ordeal was the best for both of us.