Chizuna
I don't know. I'm so confused. How did this happen, all those years ago, when did it, how did it start? The unquenchable thirst. The incurable pain. The uncontrollable madness. A blood that blindly gropes for blood. The body and the blood, forced together in a parasitical hell of a relationship that ultimately destroys…
And none of us knew, when it was there all along. We lived for such strange reasons, such stupid, horrid, messed up reasons. Children are not spouses and siblings are not lovers and you can't replace a person even if you fill their spot. It was just so hard to learn. Your blood inside me doesn't mean I love you. The wanting and the needing and the scars on too many people's wrists. That wasn't what we intended to live for.
But somewhere back there along our family line, the padlock was secured and we only knew to live like that, like fugitives escaping the law by imprisonment, escaping lies to live one. There were so many lambs, but not enough sheep, not enough time.
And I know this as I'm slipping out of consciousness, slaughtering this one last lamb, I realize how pointless all the secrets, and the dispair, and the lies, and the attempts to be normal, and the living just for need and want, how wrong that all was. Because I'm not thinking anything now. And dying isn't escape. It's merciful love, we both know that now. After all this pain and trial and error. After all this blood. All this fading away, ultimately to death. When all we had to do was be happy with each other and live for loving someone close, not wanting them. Not needing them. Not using them as something they aren't. Someone taught this to me through the story of their life. I knew a lamb once. A beautiful lamb.
I had a sister.