I never understood why Justin was always gone so much. I mean, how could I have? I was, like, eight or something. But I’m older now, so I get it. He had to go be some prissy pop singer.
I know I sound bitter but you have to understand where I’m coming from.
Timberlake is not a particularly common name. And in 2005, where Kurt Cobain and The Rolling Stones are suddenly cool again, being the little brother of Justin Timberlake has to be one of the hardest things in my life right now. Even harder then math.
And there’s also the little fact that I can’t even compare to Justin. He’s so talented and tall and dark and handsome, and I’m so…not. I can’t even sing right. It really bugs me because I’m always expected to be some amazing artist because I’m his brother.
I had to grow up real fast, too. Who else was supposed to take care of Steven when Mommy was helping Justin deal with whatever Justin had to deal with? That’s right. Me. There were times when I used to think that maybe Justin was just an adopted brother who left home.
I remember this one time, I went to one of his concerts, and I thought JC was Justin because JC had actually visited us more then Justin had. Isn’t that weird? Justin looked like he was going to cry, but it served him right. He could’ve at least called or written or something.
It was his fault Mommy and Daddy got divorced, too. Mommy was spendin’ too much time helping Justin, and Daddy got mad. So Steven and I have four parents now, instead of two. Which makes me even weirder.
I am weird, too. At least, people at school think I am. Everybody tries to make me bring them home to meet Justin. Nobody wants to come over to hang out with me. Always Justin. So when I say no, they bad-mouth me. Remember that episode where Jan is really jealous of Marsha, and she’s all like, “Marsha, Marsha, Marsha!” God, I was really ready to jump up and say, “Justin, Justin, Justin,” except Steven was in the room, and I didn’t really feel like explaining it to him.
Steven doesn’t get it. He doesn’t understand that he’ll never be “normal.” He’ll never be Steven Timberlake. He’ll be Justin Timberlake’s Little Brother, Right? Just like me.
Being his brother does have some perks, I guess. I get to meet lots of babes, like what Chris calls ‘em. And Justin brings home lots of the people I see on TV. I liked Britney; she was really funny. She used to put straws in her mouth and pretend to be a walrus. It was funny. Except Justin would always roll his eyes and tell her to stop. I think he was embarrassed. I don’t like Cameron as much though. She’s funny and all, but she has this weird habit of licking Justin’s face, even when other people are in the room. It’s like, dude, his face is not a postage stamp.
Basically, Justin isn’t a great brother. How could he be? He’s a pop star. I can’t really blame him, I guess, but, I dunno. It seems like he could at least try to make an effort, like he used to. He used to take me to SeaWorld, but he doesn’t anymore because last time, he got attacked. Some girl started strangling him. He also used to hug me. But he doesn’t anymore. Well, he does, but not the way he used to. I used to be smothered by him, but now, it’s like I have chicken pox and he is afraid of catching them. It makes me sad. Justin is famous, but not to me. He’s still my brother.
Actually, I’m wrong. I’m his brother.
He isn’t mine.
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