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"Regarding My Thoughts on My Brother and Sister"

We live in a dilapidated household that daily decays. We've lived here for quite some time-ever since my birth. Our home is vacantly decorated: we hardly have a preference for extravagance. There are some items within our house that are of particular interest: there is an inoperable clock whose eventual functionality has been the preference of all yet the true fixations of none.

Despite the homely atmosphere that I've thus intimated, we do have a wondrous relationship. My sister has raised me ever since birth, and my brother has been hardly seen but nevertheless comes and goes. I don't believe that the reasons for his absence extend to my individual character, but I think it has much to do with the slightly imperceptible void between my sister and him. According to my recollections, almost every encounter between my brother and sister to date has been violently concluded in bitter, contemptuous regard and utter separation. Because my sister "runs" our household much more than my brother does, he is therefore obliged to depart by default out of town.

My sister is a very complex individual: she seems to naturally execute her errands so expertly that I hardly notice that the moment during which she undergoes her work is almost immediately proceeded with completion, though others who've actually seen my sister at work all conclude that she is working too excessively. There are several interesting aspects that I have been able to partially discern in relation to my sister: she has developed an almost synonymous preference to other's items than those that her predilections should otherwise influence, though she never completely replicates other's possessions more than she shares other's insights.

As I've mentioned before, my brother is hardly home. He comes when I least expect him to, and when I need him the most he isn't there. I know that he does send letters of correspondence to my sister frequently while he's away; she reads the letters to herself and then dully tells me that "he's fine and he'll be home soon." I don't blame him for his absence; I just wish he were here more often. Why develop such a longing for someone who hasn't been here, one might ask? My brother is a very independent individual: a self-made man, he tackles anything with both ease and efficiency that one would question whether he's aware of each singular consequence of each corresponding endeavor. He's very strong: he does all the heavy lifting for my sister whenever he's home.

Sometimes I wish my brother and sister would unite and stay together in the same home with me, as they once had; they've been so much an inspiration to me (well, my sister has wrought the most influence unto me and my brother the least but always the most potently indelible).

*Note: This is an allegorically figurative reflection of myself that illustrates two of my dominant emotions, somewhat prevalent envy (my sister) and desperately needed courage (my brother).

*Helpful Hints: The "house that daily decays" is my body; the description of my "house" being "vacantly decorated" and its owner's absent "preference for extravagance" facilitates my ambiguous impression on others and my humble nature; the "inoperable clock whose eventual functionality has been the preference of all yet the true fixations of none" symbolically hones in on my shaky quality of punctuality and my efforts in correcting it, proving however unsuccessful.

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