A nagging cloud of emotions has been lingering over my heart for quite some time now, ever since my younger brother had been born. Constantly since birth both then and now have I been compared to my brother. While he was a maid for only one family, I was pushed around from house to house, no one willing enough to put up with me and my 'attitude'. I only developed an attitude for the purpose of protecting myself, by that time I was entirely fed up with the world, and I no longer cared what they thought of me. Whenever I would lash out, they would say things like "Why can't you be happy like your brother is? Why must you refuse to do anything? Feliciano wouldn't allow such a thing... Why are you so useless unlike him? Why can't you just be more like your brother?" Every 'why' and every question asked of me compared and contrasted my brother to myself. Everyday was like a thousand knives stabbing my heart, and all they did was watch me bleed, adding more pain with each word spoken. But the one thing that stung the most was that no one even dared to say my name, my real name. Instead I was given unpleasant nicknames, if anything at all.
Everyone adored my brother and hated me..even my own grandfather. I was the potty-mouthed, rude, dispicable grandson while my brother Feliciano was the talented, artistic, happy grandson he had always wanted. I never grew to hate my brother, I had grown to hate his likeable personality. That hatred was enough to fuel my already hated personality and turn it into the person I am today. The one person I hate the most...myself. I had believed there was no hope for me, no light at the end of the tunnel. My mindset had changed that one fateful day. The day I had been moved to yet another house, and came face to face with the man who I called right off the bat a "Tomato eating bastard".
My reputation had already been established and I lived up to it, masking my grief and internal scars with insults and hatred. Everyday I spent in that house I awaited more knives and bullets, but they never came. That Spanish bastard annoyed me to no end, responding to my constant insults with smiles and gentle scolding, not yelling and slowly killing me with harsh words as I had expected. Although one day, that long awaited comparison came, and I was left unprepared.
He had dared to ask me why I was so grumpy, unlike my brother. My guard wasn't up, and I was in no way ready for that. I had finally snapped, spewing every curse word imaginable, throwing and smashing anything and everything within reach. I had expected to be kicked out at that point, cast away to yet another house where I would be treated differently than my brother. But it didn't happen. The Spaniard merely sat there and waited, almost as if he knew I needed to let out bottled anger. He silently cleaned up everything I had smashed, placed a hand on my shoulder and told me, "I know this wasn't your fault, Lovino. I'm not blaming you." before leaving and letting me be by myself and calm down. That night I had stayed awake all through the night, over thinking things and replaying the past. That morning, I had done something that shocked both myself and him, I apologized.
Perhaps this is the end of all the suffering I had been through, the light at the end of the tunnel I had believed to be nonexistent. I had both been right and wrong at that time, so long ago in the past. I still find myself comparing my brother to all the things I could have been, to all the things I still could be but decide not to out of fear and the constant reminder of my horrible past. My brother, Feliciano Vargas, is the most horrifying living reminder I could possibly have. So many times I am reminded of those harsh words said so long ago. Although my life seems dreary, there is one person who reminds me that there is always light in the darkest of times, Antonio Fernandez Carriedo. I would never admit such a thing out loud of course, but him, and my brother are the only two people I can't bring myself to hate, no matter how hard I possibly try. Instead of causing wounds and pain, they heal and protect me.
I could never figure out why they willingly stay by my side, when all I want to do is shut the world away and succumb to the pain inside. I will never change the way I am, I have lost the will to. Forever I will remain the hated Vargas brother with a tortured and broken soul, pushing away all those who try to enter his twisted world. Isolation is what I crave in this brutal world we live in...isolation, and the end of it all...
