I shouldn't have left the last poat up as the final word on my brother for so long, because he now has a new persona, which is the "grown up" Matthew.
He texts me when I'm at my facility when he doesn't actually have any message to communicate. He read my last blog and wasn't even angry at me. He offers to turn the family room TV channel to the "Judge Alex" station for me even if he was watching something first. He tries to get me to eat my food --especially my vegetables--- and drink my milk even when our parents aren't looking. He tries to explain why it's important for me to take my medicine and that my parents are trying to help me by giving it to me. Holy Mother of All Stupidity! I know that I need to eat vegetables and drink milk and that my parents want me to take medicine because they think it will help me to get better! He opens my door if he's sees light under it in the middle of the night and tells me I need to go to sleep. I don't actually need Matthew to tell me these things.
I can't quite figure out from where he's coming. He seems at least somewhat sincere. He acts like he's now my older brother. When or why did he become so mature? He's practically no fun anymore, not that he was all that much fun to me when he was picking on me or doing his best Eddie Haskell imitation, either. Sometimes I would like to tell him that the Stanford admissions officers can't see inside our house, so he doesn't have to keep up his charade here anymore. (He really wants to go to Stanford, but he doesn't even act jealous that I was accepted last year and don't want to go there.)
We started out as more or less equal. He was bigger and stronger, but I was smarter. Then when adolescence hit him and bypassed me, any equilibrium that may have maintained itself between the two of us suddenly ceased to exist. He was popular and I wasn't. Nothing else really mattered. To anyone. At the begining of this school year I overheard one of my teachers quietly telling her student teacher that I was Matthew's twin sister. The student teacher uttered an apparent response of incredulity inadubible to me. Then the teacher continued with, "I know. I wouldn't believe it either if I didn't know the family." The teacher taught a class in which I had by far the highest grade; I was very polite and quiet in the class, but answered questions and participated when it was appropriate to do so. My point is that this teacher was not seeing the obnoxious behavior from me that my parents sometimes see. Matthew was in another section of the course and barely had an A. So why did this teacher think she should be comparing me so unfavorably to my brother? Because he's good-looking and popular, and I'm a little nobody.
Now he's not just bettter-looking and better-liked; he's more mature as well. This new behavior is such a departure from the norm that I'm not entirely sure how to respond. So far I just smile and nod my head. I don't know what to say. I can't even be certain it's not a masquerade of some sort. Perhaps at some point in the not-too-distant future he'll suddenly start laughing at me and will say, "I can't believe you were stupid enough to fall for me being nice to you. Why would someone like me be nice to someone like you?"
Paranoia is not my mental health diagnosis, but my brother is making me paranoid. If he had known he could make me so confused just by being nice to me, he probably would have been nice to me a long time ago.
I have a really nice room. It has everything I really need except food, and there are even ways I could keep an emergency food supply in here. I don't need much because I don't really even like food. I want to stay in my room forever.