Main Player

 Main Player

I’ll never understand him.
All he seems to do is sit there,
For hours at a time.
Typing, clicking, shooting.
“Does he even get up to pee?”
There seems to be an impression in the couch,
An impression that only his little body can fit in.
Nobody dares to sit there when he is gone.
I could be right next to him
And still seem galaxies far far away.
Voices always coming off his headset,
Talking to another boy from Texas or Korea.
“How can he just sit there?"
But then it occurs to me,
What if he wasn’t there?
His impression would be gone.
The voices would fall silent.
His group, clan, or whatever would be short a member.
And I would be left brotherless.
Even though his rants about how much
XP or health he has seem unnecessary.
This is the way he talks,
As if life was his video game.
I am merely the hero’s sister
And he is the main player.
Fighting injustice, casting spells, and defeating demons.
Whatever the battle, it is his fight.
And not mine to judge.
By: Rebekah Rose Archambeault