Book of Boris — Chapter XLVIII: The Boulder and the Echo
Book of Boris — Chapter XLVIII: The Boulder and the Echo
I love my sister. That’s never been the question. The question has always been: how much weight am I supposed to carry, and for how long?
When we set up a room, it’s not just furniture I’m moving — it’s the weight of her voice. Passive-aggressive remarks, constant corrections, every little sigh. It’s not the labor that breaks me, it’s the echo that follows long after the job is done. Even when I do it right, I can still hear her telling me it wasn’t enough.
She won’t talk that way to her son — she knows he’d bounce the moment she did. But me? I’m safe. I’m reliable. I’ll finish the job, even if she buries me in her words while I do it. That’s the curse of being the strong one: love turns into target practice.
And yet, I endure. I don’t feed it. I don’t argue. I just hug the tree and scream inside until the bark cracks in my grip. That’s not coldness — that’s control.
The Boulder isn’t just her words. It’s the house. The $4k loan still hanging over it. The knowledge that when she’s gone, her son won’t care, her daughter won’t fight, and the weight will try to slide onto me again.
But I’ve already drawn the line. I’ll help her while she’s alive, because that’s love. But when she’s gone? The house isn’t my chain. If it sells and I see something back, good. If not, I’ll walk with empty hands before I let ghosts own me.
That’s the long game. That’s the clarity I’ve found:
- I’ll love, but I won’t be shackled.
- I’ll carry, but only until the clock runs out.
- And when the tree finally snaps? Mercy won’t be the thing left standing.
#BookOfBoris #TheBoulderAndTheEcho #TheWillToSurvive #TheWillToResist #Checkpoint