Blood is thicker than water
I look at him and I see myself. There isn't anything uncanny about that, considering that we are of the same blood. But when I look at him I don't think about our common ancestry, but about the life he's had, and how mine might mimic it. I look at him and I see twenty five years of a wasted life, wasted for something that was at the same time so petty and so honourable. Petty because the underlying reasons for that wretched life were petty, were of a small mind that only a small person could have - not him, never him. Honourable because the reason he didn't change everything before was the greater one. Blood is thicker than water. He knew that. He sacrificed himself for twenty five years for that reason alone. Because he didn't want to let down the person that loved him more in the whole world. Twenty five years of daily hell to finally break free, at the age of fifty. I see him happy now. Young, even. I wonder if I will ever be that lucky in the end.