The sound of the rain gently tapping the window .. it reminds me of much simpler days.
Days wherin I had no need to worry about every corner holding threats to my life, whatever decision my father or grandfather make and how it may have an impact on me, or what rediculous expectations others have for me. When I was younger, a simple natural occurance like rainfall, would've never gotten the amount of interest from me as it does now, simply because I had no need to watch the droplets crash down to this sinful planet, nor the desire to use its beauty as a distraction whilest reflecting every choice I had made in my brief time being on Earth. In my childhood my biggest concern must've been who my father was, and if I looked like him, and being a child, I thought that was intense, but considering the thoughts haunting my restless mind in the present, the need to compare is non-existent.

And it is safe to say, even in the present, that the memories I cherish the most are those including my mother. Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying that any of my other memories don't mean a thing to me, but there has only been one person that I admit to love, and that happens to be my mother. Probably for all the wrong reasons, because if you'd ask me for the reason to why my mother means so much to me, I'd answer : because she loved me dearly. Eventhough, I am aware that many others care about me, and it seems to be a struggle to get past my walls, but because of all the events, I realized I had put those up without being aware of it, I appreciate their commitment to stay near me, even if I am not able to repay that love.

My mother chose to raise me as far away from my father as possible, with good reasons I assume. I don't know much about my father prior to my birth, so I have no idea if he was able to love and cherish. It's strange to wonder if your parents even loved each other and if you might have been the product of a quick night-stand, and have your life to thank to hormones and a high libido. And though it was obvious my mother held emotions bottled up inside, she did make it clear to me that she once trusted my father, but despite all the pain he had caused, and despite her common sense telling her otherwise, she would always love my father, because she witnessed the softer side of him and he is the father of their son. And she raised me to always respect him for that very reason, and none other.

It was due to my grandfather that I first got in contact with my father. It was a rather uncomfortable meeting, since he worked at the G-Corporation at the time, with a CEO title. he was rich, powerful and intimidating to say the least, that and he kept silent for a good 20 minutes, and then told me that I had my mother's eyes.. something that makes me reconsider my mother's words and somehow an unexpected remark that gave me affirmation that he remembered the time he had spend with her, by noticing my facial features resembling hers. But either way, it was visible that that man had no idea what parenthood was like and had no clue how to act like a father. I didn't see him that often, every once in a while he would drop by to take me out to dinner, and on other occasions I would run into him by accident. There were some times he'd pick me up from school and drive me back home, I'll never forget the awkard silent moments in the car, causing him to clear his throat and ask me if I'd like to listen to some music, assuring me it was okay to turn the radio on. At least he tried to see me and be a part of my life, even if those moments were short-lived.

I got an answer to my question concerning my father. Did I look like him? Yes. Quite a bit to be exact, we even styled our hair in the same manner,
which was kind of odd upon first seeing each other.

I must have been 12, or around that age.. And my mother wanted to take me to a fancy restaurant in order to celebrate..
I didn't mind dressing up nicely, as long as I could spend time with my mother, it was all fine by me. The day I stood infront of my bedroom mirror, fidgeting with the red tie my mother had bought allong with the black suit, - my father thought it a good idea to pay me a visit.
he casually walked into the livingroom, handing his black Armani suit jacket to my mother, greeting her in a detached fashion.
Knowing my mother, I'm sure that her eyes must've lit up seeing Kazuya's face after all those years, and being able to look into the eyes of the man she used to share a deep connection with. She was a sucker for seeing the good in people, even if there wasn't any.

My mother didn't have the heart to send him away, which I understand, so we ended up spending my birthday together. And I must admit .. I liked that feeling of being and having a family. And I bet my mother did as well. I witnessed my father cracking one lame joke after another, but somehow my mother never ceased to laugh at them.
I learned that my father loved whiskey and scotch as beverage, doesn't like sweets and is a master in Karate. The other subjects that they talked about, I was unable to keep track of, something with a boat and a wolf, my grandfather and genes. When I came back from my bathroom break, I saw my father's hand caressing my mother's cheek, his lips curled into a soft smile and eyes shimmering. - A face I've never seen before or after, in my entire life.
The first and last time I've seen my father showing off his emotions and humane side for that matter. It suited him.
And it's been a while since I've seen a smile, that had nothing to do with me, on my mother's face.

Then ofcourse all the nonsense began taking place and pretty much erased everything prior.
I hate my father, my grandfather, myself .. humanity. I'm a 26 year old man that suffers from fear of commitment, is addicted to sleeping pills, pain killers and anti-depresants. I'm currently the host of a devilish persona, pretty much like my father, despite the fact that Kazuya has control over it, unlike me.
I'm unable to love, lived on my own for years, have no family at all, no friends, no carreer, no school certificate, no love, i'm never safe .. no life..

I am one of those people you see on tv, or read about in books. A person that could only exist in a video game.

Because if I were real .. I would've already been dead.

I don't know where I got all of this from, but Jin Kazama has always been a very interesting person to me. ' person ' .. character tbe.

And I also love Kazuya for some reason .. And I just know that Kazuya was once a GOOD man .. I want to believe he loved Jun..

So this is what I came up wiz .. tell me if you like it or not.

R&R. thank you for reading.