Upon Eyvonne's eleventh birthday, she had requested for a particular gift. That gift — a new bicycle — was much obliged by Alice and Hans. Her eleventh birthday wasn't anything spectacular. She didn't hold a party — there was already one last year — and there wasn't a lot she wanted. Just spending her birthday in peace alongside her precious family.

As precious as she deems every single member of her family, Ernie just seems to be unable to appreciate that. As his elder sister, Eyvonne wants to understand why he is always so sassy towards their parents — especially towards her — but Ernie never wants to tell. He was keen on not letting them know his troubles.

From the point of view of an outsider, it would appear he is just being selfish. And maybe he was, for his attitude became more and more sadistic as time gone by. However, from Ernie Neswitt's point of view, he found it amusing that they — his own family — could not understand his internal worries. His family, for some odd reason, could not find fault in their ways.

Ernie believed that they were too dense. Too dense to realize that his problems stem from themselves. The way they treat him, the way they let other people treat him. Ernie, if not for the constant pressure he is put under, would be shocked as to see how, in God's name, could they not see. The reason for his sick attitude, the reason for his malevolent sneers — the problem stems from themselves.

So, in order to save face, Ernie chose to keep the conflicts going on in his mind to himself. He locked those sorrowful thoughts away and swore never to speak of it to anyone, not until they are finally able to unearth his troubles. What good would it do to just talk it out with them? What good would it do to just spill it all out? There wasn't.

Solely because they would all just brush it away, saying "It's just your silly kid problems, they'll go away eventually." If Ernie were to reveal his inner worries, then they'd all just laugh. They'll just upscale their barrage of thorny remarks, laugh at him for being so melodramatic, call him out for being jealous at his sister's success, and say it's all due to how big of a failure he is.

Ernie wanted to avoid that as much as possible. Talking about his heart's contents would just make the situation worse. There's no telling what those people would say — what his own family would say. He opted for the passive-aggressive approach, in hopes of making his family realize what idiots they have been for the past year, and the flaws they have in their mindset.

Ernie had accepted long ago that he wasn't perfect. He accepted the fact that he's miles behind his sister.

But he realized another thing. It wasn't his fault he's such a failure. It wasn't his fault that he seemed so different from his sister. He didn't choose to be as talented. He couldn't choose to be talented. Genes can only go so far — they'll have to differ at some point. And maybe Eyvonne's genes just turned the right corners. Maybe he just got unlucky. But it wasn't his fault — far from it.

If at all, it was their fault for not seeing properly. Blinded by the sweet nectar called success — they could just as easily shun someone from society for making a mistake as they would put a successful person on a high horse and worship them. The gap between respect and disrespect has grown to be too wide of a ravine. The hopes of getting from the discarded side to the glorious one is only but a pipe dream for many.

They were the cause of all this trouble. They were the kick-starters to this never-ending hate train. If they can't find the fault in their methods, then they don't deserve to know the truth. Even if they did know, what good will it do? They'll just laugh it off, just like how they would when Ernie expresses his troubles. They'll find every way to disgrace you, to make you fall from the face of the world.

Ernie already made up his mind. The only way to get their heads out of their asses would be by showing them they're wrong — wrong in such a way that no comeback would be viable enough to counteract his point. He'll stick that proof up their ruddy noses, until it replays in their minds like a song stuck on repeat. For that, he has been working hard, trying his best to ignore all those hateful comments.

He'll suffer through that throng of attacks. He doesn't care about his reputation anymore — it's already tarnished to begin with. He'll just fail and redo, fail and redo — each time improving from the last. No matter how many times he falls, he'll get up again.

But that mindset caused a bit of a misunderstanding among his family. Due to his workaholic schedule, he has been growing more and more distant from his family, opting to continue work instead of spending time with them. His parents thought lightly of it — he's just going through a phase; it'll be over soon enough.

But Eyvonne didn't take that. She didn't believe Ernie was being distant just because. For one, who exactly goes through a rebellious phase at age six? That in itself is already contradictory. Eyvonne wanted to pry into Ernie's heart, to see what his problem was. She didn't see the consequences of her actions — they were all conveniently blocked away by the constant stream of kind words and high praises, by that ambitious mind of hers and the amount of potential residing inside. She was chasing her dreams, looking too far forward and didn't decide to look back. She didn't notice what her actions brought upon her own little brother — those actions that brought such a hellish life for him.

Eyvonne, in the yearning of remedying the bonds between herself and Ernie, thought of doing something sweet for Ernie. She decided that, if Ernie could not appreciate her efforts, then she'll make him appreciate them. She misunderstood his disdain of her for not paying enough attention towards him. Yes, perhaps he is feeling a bit lonely with me being in the spotlight all the time.

"Hey, Ernie," she called out to him, in the kindest voice she could muster, "since I got a new bicycle and all, I'll let you use my old one. In fact, I'll just give it to you. It's yours now. Take it."

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"...Thanks?" Ernie raised an eyebrow in suspicion, but didn't question it further. Maybe she's just being kind because it's her big day.

Eyvonne nodded happily. "Do you know how to ride a two-wheeler?"

"...No."

"Oh," she frowned, but then grinned as a new thought popped into her mind. "How about I teach you?"

"No thank you." With that one casual remark, Ernie left the kitchen and up the flight of stairs.

Eyvonne was shook. She didn't know why Ernie refused to flatly. She thought she'd been kind towards him, and touched him dearly. But she was wrong, it seems. Of course, such a shallow act of kindness would not penetrate his heart. Of course not — how could she be so stupid? Could this be a new flaw of her? A spoiled egg among the basket of perfect little hatchlings?

"...What's wrong with him?" She muttered under her breath without thinking. When she realized, she gasped and closed her mouth shut, both hands over it tightly as if glued together. I shouldn't have said that, she thought. I shouldn't be angry at him if I'm trying to fix whatever broke between us.

"Honey, don't mind Ernie too much," said Alice. "He's not well today."

"Mum... it's worse than you think."

"What are you saying, Eyvonne?" Hans chimed in, borderline drunk on juice. "Ernie's just being a little brat like all kids are. Don't be so blue — it's your birthday!"

"A birthday that my own brother can't even enjoy..." she muttered, just soft enough so her parents couldn't hear.

That moment, she made up her mind to find out what has been troubling Ernie since the day he started to distance himself from her. She swore to read his heart's innermost feelings and fix them from the core itself. It won't be easy — nothing is — and she already knows that like a lifelong friend. It'll be a challenge worth tackling, for once.

***

On days that his sister was not around due to extracurricular activities (she is practically active in everything), Ernie would diligently learn how to ride Eyvonne's old bicycle. He was determined to learn how to properly ride one without his sister's help. He didn't like it when others try and pry into his heart — it made him feel tangy and uneasy. It was for the better, anyway — this will serve as crucial experience to self-teaching.

For the first day of learning, he had a lot of difficulties balancing himself on the bike. Ernie already knew how to ride one with safety wheels — those are practically braindead — but without those to help him balance, he kept falling down onto the paved ground of his backyard. The bike, in its inanimate tumbling, would collapse onto him if he didn't get up fast enough.

For that trial and error, he gained a good bunch of bruises throughout every exposed part of his body. It stung, yes — but the pain was almost nothing compared to what he'd experienced before. This is child's play in comparison to the emotional pain he feels throughout every day of the week, every hour, minute, and second to go with it. It's purely a test of endurance — he's quite fond with those as well.

Since Ernie was learning on his own, he took longer to get the grasp of things. It was harder to improve without the help of someone else. That's a fact in almost every skill one would want to learn — but Ernie didn't care. He had a goal, and if he could fulfill that goal without someone's nosy hands trying to aid him in his quest, then he'll do it. No questions asked.

The first day of his practicing ended feebly, without much progress. His balance was better than before, and he could go a few feet without completely falling on his butt, but there's still a long way to go. He'll practise tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after, all until he could ride it flawlessly. Without a shake, without a wince. He'll perfect that technique.

On the days following that, if he was lucky enough to have his sister away, he'll continue to ride that bike like a maniac. The bicycle was not that appealing in itself — pink with butterflies and sparkles, just as one would expect from a little girl's old belongings. As girly and fluttery the thing was, its pinkish flare has long since faded. From what was once a blinding eye-candy hot pink, has now faded through the years into a somewhat grayish, ashen-colored pink. It felt like a sad, abandoned wonderland, in a sense.

The neighbors would sneer and poke fun at him with insulting jokes whenever he pulled out that hideous second-hand vehicle. Aside from the clashing aesthetic that it brought, Ernie's continuous collapsing from an unbalanced handling of the bike also added to their hotpot of insults. And it wasn't the neighbors' kids laughing at him as well — once in a while, grown adults would come by and spectate this miraculous disaster, pointing at Ernie and laughing their guts off, childishly commenting on how stupid he looked. Exactly who was the child here?

Ernie, in all his weird glory, flat out ignored those comments. He disregarded every single sound coming from over the fence of his backyard. He just kept on cycling, occasionally stumbling and falling off. But the rate of him falling was decreasing now. He could keep himself up longer as well. A small smirk reached his mouth.

As the boy went on in circles, Alice and Hans Neswitt sat worriedly in the kitchen, looking out into the backyard where Ernie practiced. They had mixed feelings about their son putting so much effort just to ride a bike. At first, they offered to help Ernie, but he refused them just like how he did with Eyvonne.

Oddly enough, the two felt guilty for not being able to be there for their son. Their relationship had mysteriously worsened through that year. Compared to last year, Ernie was now much more distant than previously. Their heart tinged with sorrow. Their own child, now so far away from them...

"Alice, it's okay. I'm certain Ernie just needs a bit of space."

"Hans..." the mother replied softly. "I don't know what went wrong... Why is Ernie refusing our help? He's talking to Eyvonne less and less as well..."

"I don't know, Alice, I just don't know..."

***

The days went on, and Ernie finally mastered the craft of riding a bicycle, albeit taking a bit longer than normal since nobody helped him. He didn't need to hide himself riding it from Eyvonne anymore. The latter was just flabbergasted when she saw Ernie riding the bike so stably. He really meant it when he said he didn't need my help...

Ernie showed his new skill off to the neighbors that laughed at him during his practicing as well. Their response was as conceited as their brains, scoffing at him and saying, "It's just a bike, anyone can ride it." With that, they quickly lost interest in him.

Ernie didn't expect praise to begin with, though as any human would crave, a bit of nice words would be fine. He didn't let those stuffy neighbors get to him — at least he showed them he was capable, and that was enough. He also proved to his sister that he didn't need her pitiful help. He could do just as well without it.

Satisfied with himself, Ernie called it a day. I showed them I could do it, and that's all I care. Say what they want, but at the end of the day, I'm the one who accomplished something. Not those snobby neighbors of mine, not my parents, not my sister — they didn't accomplish a thing. I did something. That's worth much more than any piece of praise, right?

—As long as I get back up and try again, I will eventually succeed. That's why falling and failing are all the same — getting back up means we continue to succeed.