You are different. You don't know how or why, only that you don't quite fit the way your brother does.
But that's good, said the adults, you are a perfect example of how one should be. So, you don't question it.
Then, suddenly, the first crack appears. Your perfection wavers. You feel much, too much, but it's not something that you should talk about. So you don't.
The years fly, but you only start getting sticking out more and more. The other kids avoid you, adults praise you and you continue carrying yourself as you always did. It's easier that way.
Then, one day, you meet the boy. One, with the most beautifull smile in the world. One, who is expressive in the ways you never could. Someone, who is everything you strive for, yet is your total opposite. Once again, you remember how much you feel, how intense your emotions are and once again you are conflicted.
You see yourself falling in love and don't know what to do and how to stop it. It's jarring. It goes against everything you ever knew. You are not sure how to accept it.
But time waits for no one and before you are ready, he dissapears.
Once upon a time three months were nothing. Three months used to be a blink of an eye. But now it feels like an eternity, a slow agonising hell of fear and uncertainty.
(Where are you, where are you, where are you)
But then the clouds pass and you can see the sun again. You are ready, but it's already too late.
For the first time, you regret not learning how to use your words. Because everything that leaves your mouth suddenly becomes distorted, changed till it's nearly unrecognisable. You plead and plead and plead. Trying again and again for your meaning come across, for your intentions to come through. They don't. It guts you in the process.
(You want to shout "I love you", but you fear it changing into "I own you". You saw first-hand how love can change into a burden and you fear for your own to become one to.)
(You swore to yourself it won't.)
Yet you are desperate. You try again. And again. And again. Your hurt and frustration grows and grows. Jealousy appears. And then you lose your composure, something you always prided yourself on, for a moment. It's only a few minutes, but it seems to confirm are your worst fears about yourself. You are mad at yourself - so much that it makes you want to punch something.
(You do. Punch it.)
In the end, you are tired. You don't know what to do. You tried reaching out, again and again and it didn't work. It never seemed to work. So, when it all comes to it, you stand aside.
(Who knows, maybe this way it will be better? Your heart is heavy, but you hope you made the right choice.)
Then it all falls down. And you finally decide to do that last step that you weren't brave enough to take yet. But it's all crumbling down and with startling crality you have realised that you have run out of time.
(You don't want to have any more regrets.)
It doesn't change anything. He is gone, gone, gone, while you are still here. Alive. Standing alone, among the ashes, bleeding from lashes on your back. And yet, it still doesn't compare to the lashes on your heart. In the end, your words never reached him.
(Get lost. Get lost. Get lost.)
You feel numb. You feel soulless, sick with the sadness and a thousand of regrets. Did anything you did ever matter? There is nothing left. Nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing. Nothing for you to bury. Nothing for you to hold. Nothing for you to say goodbye to.
(You never said goodbye. And yet, you desperately don't want to.)
You feel like dying. For one, crazy moment you want to die. What is there to live for? But you quickly regain your senses. With a startling clarity you think - he wouldn't want you to do that. Then you hear the crying - you never thought such sound could feel so joyfull.
There, among the roots of a tree, is tucked away a tresure. You take it into your trembling hands and for a moment, you don't feel any pain. There is something for you to hold onto.
The world moves on. Season change. Eventually, you move on too. Somehow.
But you are changed. And you can feel it each day, step by step. You look at them, unaware of your loss. You look at them, not understanding your loss. You look at them, acting as if nothing had happen. As if the sun did not set down for all eternity.
(It didn't.)
You watch the kids grow. You are trying to do right by them. You are trying to make them more prepared that you were at that age. You are trying to make the world easier for them.
(Most of the time, you don't know what to do. Each time you waver, you imagine what he would do.)
You are content. Almost. Because if you actually were, you wouldn't have wandered around. But you are soulless. You know that. And so you roam the world around, going where the chaos is and bringing there light. You have lost your soul and have no hope of finding it.
(But who knows? Maybe one day the miracle happens. Maybe one day, you will find what you are unconsciously looking for. What you are looking for, so deperately. But it won't be today.)
