The word 'uncommon' is, well, commonly used to describe how odd it is to feel stares smother every inch of your body and yet, remain untainted. It describes the feeling of knowing that 'feeling' exists but not…'feeling' it. Like how I watch the mass of snow on his head melt as another temper tantrum threatens to burn him alive. I KNOW I should feel the heat but I feel nothing.
It's 'uncommon' for a human being to be so empty. Yet…it doesn't seem like I CAN call myself human. I've doubted it before and though he's reassured me, sometimes, on those lonely train rides, I wonder if maybe it's only wishful thinking. On his part and on mine. We've been traveling for so long, struggling to find a way to help me understand. Because it's been longer since I've felt what he can. Feel a breeze's gentle caress or the deep thrumming through the kitten's throat; the little one I keep hidden inside. I can't remember what fruit tastes like so I can only dream about it.
'Uncommonly', I can't even sleep. It's 'uncommon', the fact I meditate while he sleeps with head resting against hard, frigid steel. It's all I can do to keep from going crazy.
A long time ago, his pillow would have been soft and warm. And I wouldn't have thought about everything I'm missing now. I was just a kid…it's uncertain, as to whether I still am or not. Seeing through so many planes on one world -and even beyond that- matures a soul. Living in hell before eternity begins makes musing…salvation.
And above all, it's 'uncommon' that what I DO 'feel' is 'rare'. I feel rage at the betrayal around us; rage at him for constantly attempting to sacrifice himself for me but most importantly-
Rage at Lust.
Because one sin or two isn't enough for us. We share our sins like we share our birth name. But in my empty shell, echoing around his mark, is a sin I can never burden him with. Her claws penetrated my heart before either of us had form. Admiration and adoration and trust. Lust twisted them into a Sin.
It's not 'uncommon' for a man to love another man. Not anymore. But it's 'rare' for a brother to love his sibling in such a way that it can only be called 'Lust'.
Big Brother, sometimes I wish you'd fail because the thing I long to feel most, is the touch of your bare skin.