Pre-story Notes:
... For Narration
… Reflections
"…" Spoken words for the scene
'…' Direct thoughts for the scene
… Dark thoughts/reflections from deep within
x-x-x-x-x Separation borders to indicate chosen song Lyrics
x-x Separation borders to indicate a memory
Separation borders to indicate entrance into the soul will be the border provided in Document Manager. (Second part only)
This story is a two-part one-shot. The first is an indepth look into the eyes of Issachar and the second is his surrender to the darkness that consumes his heart. I apologize about the messiness of the scattered script. In the hard copy version, I have special symbols to make it easier; symbols that aren't permitted in Document Manager. Any questions? Please ask.
I know not the colour of these character's eyes, or any other physical traits I may have given them in this story. I do not know what chores they were assigned, how they were carried out or what their interests were. Everything in this story is a fabrication of how I believed the character Issachar felt at this time and how I thought Joseph and the others reacted. I have not read the Bible's account of the story of Joseph, and so this story solely reflects what I have taken from the musical "Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat". I played the character, Issachar, in my school's re-enactment of this play and was inspired to write this story after explaining to the class why I wanted to play this role. I believe that these brothers were the true sufferers in this account; everything revolves around Joseph, even the play itself. No one ever seems to stop to consider the true feelings of these forgotten brothers. Well, I did, and have attempted to put them into written form through my character. I hope those who read this account enjoy it and perhaps see the brothers the way I have.
There are a lot of people I want to dedicate this story to. First off, I'd like to thank the teachers and students from the MAD program. Had I not been given this role, I highly doubt I would have had the initiative and desire to actually write and finish this one-shot. I especially like to thank those who asked me about my writing sometime within the weeks that I have appeared with my notebook in hand; each of you gave me a lot of support when you asked, some even asking to read what I had so far. I won't list any names, for the fear that I may accidentally leave one out; you all know whom you are.
I want to thank my Mom for helping me throughout the process of creation. There were times where I would literally rant for hours about this, sometimes about what I have, what I hoped to do and the difficulties I was experiencing. She not only listened to these rants, but she helped provide her own insight about the entire story, which included a few notes from the original story. I don't know if I bugged her or not, but thanks so much.
My best friend Denise was, of course, a huge help when writing this lengthy thing. I like to call her my personal editor since sometimes my mind likes to over-create, often providing me with non-existent words and quirky sentence structures. She's also a spelling/grammar error homing device, which helps when I fail to realize my own mistakes. But then, isn't that what friends are for?
Another major influence: Evanescence. Their lyrics are featured in this story multiple times; from the songs "Lies", "Missing", "Tourniquet" and "Exodus". I would play Evanescence sometimes when writing this story as the lyrics and mood fit so perfectly.
Finally, and I know people will laugh at this but I'm being totally serious, I want to send my thanks to the creators of the PS2 game: Kingdom Hearts. The character, Riku, from that game has given so much insight about the depth behind anti-heroes and the corruption of internal darkness, that he just may be my biggest influence of all. Heck, I started writing because of that one character and the suffering his heart went through. Without that knowledge and experience, I'm not sure if this account could really exist. The entire section where Issachar's soul is entered; that's completely inspired by the silver-haired warrior, Riku.
-
Behind the Blindfold of Lies - Crimson Tears of a Shattered Mirror
x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x
Bound at every limb by my shackles of fear
Sealed with lies through so many tears
Lost from within, pursuing the end
I fight for the chance to be lied to again
x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x
'Crimson…and silver…and…um rose…and…what azure? Lemon? Peh, why am I bothering to keep track what colours are on that blinding fabric spectacle…?' A faint bleat enters my heated thoughts and dances softly about me. An envious, though solemn sigh slowly exits my chapped lips as my hand absentmindedly wipes away a section of salty emission from my forehead, though I only really succeed in spreading it across my skin. The sun seems to be kissing my face a little more harshly today, though I can't really decipher if there is a hidden meaning to that. Perhaps it is just my imagination…
'But then, how can I not take note of that freak rainbow coat when it's constantly being crammed down my throat by Joseph and otherwise…?' A sudden flinch jolts through my body as a sharp pain in my lip is finally realized. I guess I have been biting it a lot lately…mostly to keep my bitter thoughts where they were; merely comments of the mind and nothing more. The sensation of metallic crimson slips over my tongue and I quickly wipe my chin of any excess. I guess it's just getting harder to keep quiet…not that anyone would care to notice…
Pulling myself to my feet, I retake the hoe into my hands and begin to trench the soil properly, so that the corn sprouts would grow correctly. I had a few more rows to go, and then everyone would all help plant the seeds for this year's crop. I glance out across the fields for a second and notice Reuben helping Benjamin begin his share of the planting. A small smile tugs at my lips as I see a grateful expression on the young boy's face, even at this distance. Reuben kind of had that affect on me too; always there when you really needed it.
I steadily go about my task, occasionally trying to locate my other brethren to see how they're faring. Gad, Asher and Dan are on sheep duty; you know, care and maintenance and such. Naphtali, Simeon and Zebulun are tending to some other crops amongst the farm; I can't see them, but I assume they're hard at work, too. Levi had just finished his section of the cornfield and went to his other chores. I had started after him, completing my other duties beforehand, and then coming back out here. So naturally, he finished first.
After completing another row, I catch Reuben's supporting gaze as he prepares to begin his own planting by going to obtain his seeds. I throw him a small smirk in return and raise the hoe again to begin. Yeah, this was our basic summary of the day. We live on a farm, a rather large one actually, and so we spend our days tending to it. Occasionally, the jobs become tedious, but Benjamin told us once to make a game out of it, so even the most monotonous jobs can be made fun. It's a family tradition, if that's what you want to call it. We all work together to maintain the home, and in return, we've all become one of the most relied upon families for food. Let me guess: you're probably thinking that means we're one of those pretty close-knit, tied-at-the-heart families that you read about in fictitious novels… Well...you're mostly right…
Finishing another row, I gather my tools and materials together, scan over the fulfilled task and hop backwards to take care of the rest. My gaze catches Reuben's for a second as he returns from the shed with his portion of the seeding. I've always loved Reuben's eyes; dark, though soft amber hues that remind me of a comforting sunbeam, embracing and protective from the darker shadows of life. But mostly, one shadow in particular; a dark shape whose existence makes every one of us feel chilled and hopeless. Reuben takes care of us in this way, not only with his eyes, but also through his encouraging words and uplifting support. Things that have been lifted from our souls by this heart-manipulating shadow are on an ever-widening list. We all try to defend each other from this numbing darkness, but lately, our efforts are becoming more and more in vain.
As our eyes go their separate ways, an obliterating chill strikes my spine with a hateful spite. The concept of unexplainable signs never settled well with me, less now than then, but this one skittered across my heart with unnerving persistence. Something flashed in those tarnished hues, an indeterminable cloud that almost screamed a warning for strength. I've seen him give my brothers that look before, more often than I like to think about, and it always brought a hidden weapon that leaves the most lethal scars upon those the gaze warns. My lip is again taken captive as my eyes mimic the flutter of my heart's discomfort by wavering helplessly. My actions begin to grow more intense in effort, a deep want to finish suddenly building in my arms and inadvertently heightening my work ethic. But my heart's will to be spared from trailing darkness is quickly brushed off and forgotten, like it never existed at all. Not that it should come as a surprise anymore…
"Ah, Brother Issachar…" And there it was…Reuben's eyes never lie, though sometimes I wish they would. Irony delivers me a sharp slap to across the face as the work area about me becomes darkened and cold, the sun being torn from my stained entity much like everything else that I longed to possess once more; like pride, encouragement…a purpose… Maybe my thoughts are too literary and abundant for my own good; perhaps I should give them up, too… God knows I have nothing else; why should a lack of personal thoughts matter?
"Hard at work as always. It's so comforting knowing that I have dependable and resilient brothers around me…"
'What the hell is that supposed to mean? Eleven reliable losers to worship and serve you since everything else is taken care of? Save the compliments for someone who cares…' I guess I should keep my ability to think since I'm sure I'd suffocate without being able to vent about the dripping insincerity that lingers about me. You're probably scowling at me, right? Staring with hateful confusion in your eyes, thinking my reaction was harsh and uncalled for. What insincerity? Deceitful how? I'll admit, my arguments don't appear that great right now, but you talk to any one of my brothers, and I'll bet he'll tell you the same. It's taken years to see it, but his words, his actions, his expressions… they may look kind, compassionate and even, nice, but we can all see the truth beneath the mask of lies…
He's merely complimenting himself…The sensation of a hand falling upon my shoulder tears me from my embittering thoughts, almost scaring me a little. The hoe bites deeply into the shifting soil, each particle struggling to evade the tool's strike in an almost frightened fashion. My strikes had gotten harsher, deeper, more vicious lately. I pity this shivering dirt; sympathize for its pain if you will…
It's not quite unlike mine…
"Is something troubling you, brother? You seem distracted and your efforts appear severe…" He trails off, a note of concern seeming to float into his words, the very essence of a saint enveloping him. He is so perfect…Perfect smile, perfect appearance…perfect existence even. How could I possibly feel cold towards someone so kind, so gentle, so empathetic… so perfectly infuriating!
''Is something bothering me?' He almost sounded like he cared that time. Not that it matters since it's his damn existence that puts the 'strain in my shoulders', the 'severity in my efforts', and the 'darkness in my eyes'! To hear him ask about my well-being is so ironic, it could be literary poison…' But again, these are things I hold deep inside, the thoughts I can never reveal to the outside world. Speaking them will do no good, only creating more controversy…
"No…Joseph… Nothing's wrong…" Forcing my lips to bear a smile, though the strain threatens to kill me, I turn halfheartedly to face him, his hand falling from me. "Sorry, I didn't even hear you come up. You should know that my mind wanders while I work…" Should he? Should he know that I like to think while watching the stars and my mind likes to escape whenever I do things? Should he know that Benjamin likes the sheep with silvery wool rather than pure white like Zebulun? Should he know that Levi and Simeon love inventing new ways to complete chores, often turning it into a competition? Or that Naphtali prefers strategy to Asher's action plans of brute strength? How about Dan and his love of the sunrise versus Gad's preference for the sunset? What about Reuben's natural writing talents or Judah's interest in studying culture? Should he? Yes… But does he…?
"Actually, no. I thought you were always completely focused. Your work is consistently accurate, as though you're always on topic." Does that answer my question? Anything outside of his vision never seems to matter, as though it never truly exists; just makes cameo appearances. I guess it's a reflection of life that blinds our "special" brother. No one else seems to care about the unique qualities his brothers possess; why should he?
"Well, I've never liked to be normal… Letting my mind go helps my concentration, I guess…" I can feel my hand rise up and rub the back of my neck distractedly, my loss for actual words starting to reveal itself. I guess I am abnormal; always thinking, but never able to speak those thoughts. But maybe that's because I have little option of who to say them to. The only ones who will listen and understand are my other brothers, but it's hard to reveal the dark depths of my heart to even them sometimes. My mind has gone to haunting extremes…extremes that I'd rather like to forget. Extremes that always seem to incorporate a certain soul…
Though I am facing him, I can't look Joseph in the eyes. It's been so long since I have, but merely the thought of doing so, unearths violent scars that have been imprinted upon my heart over the years. But my reasoning runs far deeper than some petty jealousy that some may automatically pin unto me. Well, that's what I believe since I cannot take on the opinions of others. But I would hope that people will see the pain in my heart if I were to ever truly explain it to them; the truth behind the uncomfortable painted smile.
"But it is your eyes that lead me to believe you're troubled, brother. Our eyes communicate freely, remember?" I can't help it; my resolve finally cracked and my eyes face forward. Reality stabs at my heart, slashing open wounds of bitter memories and venomous realism as I face my deeply rooted hate with nothing to protect me.
As I face what I also bear…
x-------------------------------x
"It has to be fate, brother Issachar. You and I were destined to be close, made to understand each other, don't you agree?"
"Uh…yeah…Joseph… Fate… Who would have guessed…?"
"Well, it makes sense, no? You always seem to see beyond base appearance, much like myself. You understand me; understand my words and almost my thoughts even. I can see it through your eyes."
"You're just that talented, I suppose…I just speak my heart…"
"And you should, since the mind can cloud sometimes… You know, even though our mothers were different, we're still brothers. We all are. But sometimes, I feel closest to you. We have this unexplainable connection, I know it. Our eyes prove that…"
"…Yeah…a rare shade of vision spheres…a hue that's not common by any means…"
"Exactly. Yet you and I share that aquamarine tint that resembles water itself. Isn't that just amazing?"
"Yeah…Joseph…simply amazing…so very special…"
x-------------------------------x
Fate seems to bear a shade of bitter irony, doesn't it? I had one thing, one feature, one special trait that set me apart…made me unique. People noticed, liked them, even gave compliments. I won't deny that I loved these sparkling hues, grew overly proud of them. But years later, the numbing chains of dark fate venomously returned, closing around my wrists, writhing over my heart and dragged me back into its icy abyss. Pride became awkward embarrassment, admiration faded to the lonely shadows, love to hateful sadness, unique...nothing…
…Special…faded… But not gone…
…Altered…shifted…manipulated…
I must sound pathetic, right? Petty…jealous…selfish…correct? I can hear your thoughts: 'He should be proud to share such a rarity with his blessed sibling', 'One may be unique, but two is a miraculous phenomenon', 'How can you hate something that connects you with your own brother?'
Are my accusations accurate? I wouldn't be surprised if they are… Because they were once my own thoughts; my own bitter reflections…
x-------------------------------x
…It must be such an honour to have the same eye colour as Joseph…
x-------------------------------x
"Ah! Joseph! There you are!" The sudden appearance of an almost foreign voice jerks me from my acidic reflections and allows an all-too familiar sense of dread to seep into my blood. When Reuben "warned" me earlier, I knew things would be rough…
…But I didn't realize just how abrasive…
"What are you doing out here, dear boy?" My eyes try to escape the like-tinted orbs of my brother, but they are suddenly unable…As though their free will had been removed. A sharp pain in my hand attempts to free them, but without avail. I hadn't noticed that my left hand was clenched, but now, I can certainly feel it. But my eyes are still captive… Something inside me begins to shake…but its identity is veiled… Light? Or Dark?
Everything …gone… Anything outside his vision…Free will…taken…
"Oh, I had some spare time and wanted to roam a little, visit everyone." A numbing shot rips through the depths of my heart, though I force myself not to react. It seemed to have fired the second Joseph's gaze relinquished mine to face the owner of the question.
Relinquished… That's a bitter term for it…but it seems too accurate to be just coincidence… The shot strikes again, bringing a slicing thought to infect my tattered sanity.
When I locked sight with him, I couldn't look away. Why? Could it be that I have truly lost myself to the grasping clutches of my "blessed" sibling? And as he held my soul captive, as that is what's connected those wavering windows, it felt like he was inside that blackening abyss I call my heart. I could feel his presence permeating through my desperate defenses, his entity invading my very soul. He was cold, like stinging ice, and slowly began to freeze whatever grazed his searching fingertips.
Searching…Overpowering…
Controlling…
My hand tightens, work-cracked nails biting deep into callused flesh, and I find myself fighting to remain composed.
…And only he could free me… This is getting surreal…
This has to stop…!
"Actually, I was just commenting on how well Issachar is doing, Father. Doesn't the field look fantastic?" I cannot believe this…No, my mistake…I can. That selfish, egotistical…grrrah…God! Father already praises the dirt your self-righteous feet touch; why must you constantly give him more reason to worship you? This is my accomplishment! Mine…not yours! It—It's not fair…
…Why must you take away everything important to me…?
…I thought we were close…Family…Brothers…Why…?
"Yes, Joseph, it does. How kind of you to say so." No one can fathom just how much my heart hurts right now. You'd think I'd be used to it by now…but that means nothing. Every sentence, every word…every syllable; every time he comes near me, he finds more places to slash at. I can't imagine there being anything left to strike, but he obviously knows the truth. The thought about how ravaged my heart must visibly appear always brings burning tears beneath my cheeks and soon brimming my eyes. And though I do whatever it takes to remain calm and nonchalant…
…Now is no different…
I can feel my fist clench tighter…
"Where's Levi, Issachar? Isn't he supposed to be working with you?" It's getting harder to break my chains of emotional restraints now. Faces become soft blurs, like a smeared watercolour vision, voices becoming quiet whispers of atmospheric static. There are times that I fear I will lose what pitiful grip I have on this numbing world. Falling into a lost conscious state where nothing matters; no one…no emotions…no Joseph…no sadness…no pain…no Joseph…
…Just an endless span of draping obsidian…
"H-He's done already, Father. I…I did some tool maintenance and my other jobs before coming out, so he finished before me…" Was that my voice? That shaking, unsteady…unconfident voice…mine? I'm talking to my own father and I sound like that? Heh…I guess it makes sense…Look at me…I can't even look him in the eyes…My own father…
Maybe it's for the best… This stinging emotion is getting harder to keep suppressed…hidden…non-existent…
He says something to me before directing his voice at Joseph again. You wouldn't have thought he had been talking to me at all, since his eyes and stance remained focused on Joseph. Am I that unimportant? That insignificant…? Now that the world has Joseph, am I truly nothing but a shadow castor? No name…no special existence…
Do I have feelings? Do I possess some unique purpose?
…Do I even matter…?
Like tainted balloons in the wind, my embittering questions float away into the darkness, leaving nothing but a silent, answerless sense of hopelessness.
Are the answers I long for truly out there? Or is God's silence trying to "shield" me from the truth?
I can't decipher what would hurt more now…the truth that I fear hearing…or this chilled silence…
…Would that dark state really be so bad…?
The two of them continue to talk as though I am nothing, but a random spirit who knows not the road to salvation. Can't touch him, can't hear him…can't see him. The feeling is routine for me now, so I just re-grip the hoe and turn to continue with my chore. I want nothing more than to go elsewhere, but the faster I finish, the faster I can find Reuben or Gad or any one of my brothers and have real company. But it would seem my actions are not called for; taken without permission. Where is this going to end?
"Are you certain that you're okay, Issachar? You seem so distant and upset about something." His voice stabs at my ears like rusted knives and I almost cringe at the very sound.
'You couldn't just get Dad's love for your sincerity and kindness quota, no…no… Father not only thinks I'm a slacker, but now, I'm weak too. Thanks so much, you self-absorbed big mouth. You really want to prove you care for me? Take a leap into an open chasm and save me from yourself…'
"Your brother's right, Issachar. You do seem to be somewhat distracted." Of course he's right…He's always right. Even when he's corrupting what little hope his forgotten brethren possess, he's right.
Heh…you know what's ironic? It's much harder to grip sanity when he is right. It just furthers his claimed unique "perception" of us and it gives him more air for that already suffocating ego.
And why is he choosing now to inquire about my "state" in front of Father? This is practically a daily routine and he's never bothered to even glance at me with concern. Have his 'dreams' suddenly obtained the ability to read my personal thoughts and now he wants to impress people by "interpreting" them too?
I wish he were dead…
Tighter…Tighter…
"No really. I'm fine. It's just the sun; makes me look distressed." Swallowing back another wave of the bitter venom that's hatefully dancing upon my tongue, I reface them again with the stiffest and hopefully most convincing smile I can muster. I can feel those rusted hooks of painful lies tug at my cheeks, threatening to cut into my paling skin and infect my blackened heart all the more. How can he not see that I'm hurting inside when I look at him like this? If he can "read" my eyes so well, how can he be so blind?
…Why do I bother to ask these questions…? I'll never find the answers…
Lost conscious state where nothing matters…
I hate him…I wish he were dead… Hate…
Tighter…harder… Something hurts…tighter…
"Are you sure? I could help you; make the job faster. We all know you're a hard worker. You deserve the break." I swear something snapped deep inside of me. It has no name, no face…no true existence; it was just there…but now, not whole…
"Why… Is my work not as accurate as you claim it is? Am I not working fast enough for you? Is that what you meant? Deserve the break? How come? Have I screwed up that "x" many times and must be replaced? Am I just that inferior, Joseph! Huh? AM I!"
Hurt aquamarines widen; lips separate with shock. A reflex action from the father I've lost, a similar expression revealed on his aged visage. Disbelief as the greatest benefactor followed by the slowing of pained hearts. Emotion falls and mixes within the tainted soil of lost innocence and broken hope.
My mind is strong, but my will is cracked. The beautiful image and desired release is a comforting picture, a painting for perhaps a brighter future…
But thoughts are still thoughts and for now, the only one who knows is me…
Father's eyes have actually left Joseph to demand my answer and never have I prayed harder to have Reuben by my side. I've just been condemned…damned… Noose over the neck…
And awaiting a dark death…
"Issachar?"
Tighter…
"Um…well, I guess you can Joseph if you really want to. I can manage, but if you want…" Hell, a rat could see the insincere poison dripping out of my mouth. None of you will ever realize how difficult this stupid answer was. They say you learn from the mistakes of the past. It sounds logical enough…but…
……How does one correct what is doomed to be wrong…?
"Don't be ridiculous, Issachar." The image of hurt aqua and shocked visage blast into my mind and I nearly leak into my own countenance as well. I quickly look away, towards the ground, casting my face into shadow. I don't know exactly what I am trying to hide…
…But it hurt…burned really bad…
"You know your brother has things to do today and I don't want his coat to accidentally get damaged. I'm sure you're quite capable of doing this yourself, are you not?" They say the eyes bear the soul and are sharper than any knife-laden words. Now is no different. It wasn't so much his words that cut so deeply, causing my gaze to fall; it was his eyes. Their true message is hard to describe, but I could be blind and still practically taste his disappointment. Again, I should be numb to it now…but…but…
…Is something supposed to burn like this…? Dark state…nothing matters… Why does it hurt so much? …No sadness…no pain… It feels like a hot knife… no pain…
…No Joseph…
"…Yeah, Father… I said I could manage, but it's just that he asked and--" I've gotten quieter it would seem. Have I just learned to accept this life and to roll with these bruising strikes? Or maybe I've just given up, knowing my existence is bound to failure regardless…?
Or maybe a little bit of both…
…Tighter still…
"I know Joseph's offer was considerate, but you can't rely on his generosity all the time…" You cut me off to tell me that? That I shouldn't come running to my younger half-brother all the time for help! His generosity, huh? Is that what you call this underhanded, manipulative attempt at getting attention? Hah… Did I say attempt…? I am getting delusional now. When has Joseph ever merely "attempted"; Mr. Successful corn-star himself?
Why do my cheeks sting inside? Why does my heart feel the same…? I hate this…it hurts so much…
…Tighter…sharp pain…tighter…
"I know, Father, but--"
"Please don't blame Issachar, Father. I didn't mean for him to get in trouble; I just wanted to help. Everyone's out here working except me and I feel guilty about it. It's not fair to them." …'Them'… Doesn't that make you all loved and warm inside? Again I'm cut off and driven into the mud, only this time by a power more insulting. Heh…Let's recap, shall we? 'Father. Issachar here is: weak, incapable of working, doing a good job, knowing how to accept phony offers, of admitting his inferiority, and completely incompetent at defending himself. Therefore, we should try and block out his existence as much as we possibly can.'
I am so sick of playing interpreter to myself. I just wish people besides my other brethren had the ability to hear the true meaning behind Joseph's kind words and "loving" nature. I mean, this last line he just fed Father; total crap. First off, he doesn't give a damn about us nor does he comprehend the definition of fair. He stands there, bearing the rainbow coat of the Millennium and still has the guts to preach about what's fair… He's received more from our father in his life than the rest of us combined, years previous to his birth included and he would dare claim he knows what's fair! Peh…How convenient of him to suddenly notice the slight injustice of just the chore division at this particular moment…
…But the worst part is… He believes Joseph… every time…
I hate…hate…wish he…hate…dead… No pain… No Joseph… Hate…
"Oh, don't worry, Joseph. I know you meant well, but this is his responsibility. And don't sell yourself short, son; you contribute to many things around here. Why, just your kind heart is enough to prove that." You know that sudden spurt of rage I just subjected you to not seconds prior? It's gone; dissipated like water on a hot day… And in its stead… it's left that painful burning in my chest unattended. And without that precious, though desperately rejected barrier, my raw heart is exposed to the harsh, bitter lashes of reality, calling forth crimson tears to seep from ever-widening and constantly deepening gashes from that which beats for the lungs only…
An all-too familiar sting stabs at my cheeks as the biting pain in my hand draws numb. Again, it wasn't so much my Father's words that hurt me, though they definitely left their mark. I've forgotten what it feels like to be called son; the pride and self-appreciation…the love that this precious word holds. I can't recall the last time I've received moral support from the man who gave me life. I've come to rely on my brothers for that, but it's…it's just not the same.
But no…it wasn't his words that cut me so deeply, though I wish it were. I've learned how to forget words and discovered the trick to eliminate them from myself. But I cannot erase visuals; no matter how I try…they remain…imprinted forever…
His hard, critical, eyes left me to gaze at my half-sibling once again. But those chestnut hues, softened so beautifully, filled with such love and admiration that I can't even look at him anymore. My cheeks burn with a ferocity unknown and fearing to me as my mimicked aqua vision becomes blurry and pained.
Never has he looked at me that way; never. Never have his eyes fell upon me with such an adoring worship, like his prayers were answered. Never have I seen accomplished dreams in his eyes when they meet mine. And no matter how hard I try, no matter how much blood, sweat and tears I shed, no matter what I sacrifice and contribute…
…He'll never give me that loving gaze of a proud father… I'll never know the warm feeling it gives…
…Never… Never… Never…
x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x
You will never be strong enough
x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x
…Just another faceless puppet… Existence is expendable… Will never have purpose… It's all been stolen…removed…
x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x
You will never be good enough
x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x
…It's all because of him…him… He's the cause of all this pain…him…him…
x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x
You were never conceived in love
x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x
…Father loved only her… Loves Joseph best…best… You're without use…he has Joseph now… He who reads your corn and stars… They all belong to him…him…him…
x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x
You will not rise above
x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x
…Doomed to fail…cursed to suffer… Fated to be nothing…
x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x
You won't cry for my absence, I know
You forgot me long ago
x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x
…Destined to be a faceless nobody…
x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x
Am I that unimportant?
Am I so insignificant?
x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x
Lost conscious state where nothing matters… No sadness… No pain… No emotions… No Joseph…
My body had turned itself at some point during my focus loss. Nothing further spoken between the two blood relatives registered into my head. But, like usual, nothing appeared to relate to me anyway. I can sense Reuben's eyes on me now, but no amount of hopeful grins or eye speeches is going to heal these wounds…
I have no idea how long they remained gloating behind my back, but they were gone now, leaving me alone in my numbing sense of bitter pain. Only as my left hand comes to take possession of the tool's handle once more do I fully realize how clenched this throbbing hand is.
Face tilted down, the embracing thought of being in comforting shadows, I slowly attempt to mentally pry my shaking fingers apart. The digits hadn't moved and I can already sense the dripping warmth slipping over my fingers.
The deep cuts upon my palm tear a small shameful cringe from my soul as my body freezes. For several minutes afterwards, the burning in my eyes is finally relieved, allowing emotion to fall from my forgotten countenance freely. Many of those hurt ovalesque drops aim for my crimson streaked appendage; two bitter, sad and darkened waters of hurt salt mixing for eternity and spattering upon the damaged earth below me.
x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x
They'll never see
I'll never be
I've struggled on and on to feed this hunger
Burning deep inside of me
x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x