A/N: I've been working on this story for about three-four years now, so I hope you guys enjoy it! Happy readings!
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It's been quite a while since I've sat here again. Yet, here I lay, once more.
"How've you been, brother?"
No response. As always. "Sorry if you're mad at me for not coming to visit as much," a tear strolled down my eyes, but nothing a quick wipe with the sleeves couldn't fix. "It's just that…school's been taking so much of my time, so…"
My voice trailed, becoming quaky and unstable.
Though, not for the same reasons. I used to shed tears, because of anger or sadness.
Now it's from confusion.
"You know, pops hasn't stopped his yelling," I chuckled. "He's just…so angry. All the time."
"I know if you were here, then he'd be much happier. Something I guess I'm unable to give."
Can't seem to receive it either.
Leaning my backpack on a looming tree, I took a sheet cover out, placing it out on the muddy ground.
"That's much better, isn't it?" I sat down, my knees up to my chest as I hugged myself. "Now, we're on the same level. Makes it easier to tell you things."
Lies. Why, why do I feel such guilt every time I come back to this accursed place.
My hair stood tall, the wind brushing it, like the very tree I sat below.
I wished it'd take me away.
"I've begun to wonder, how come I'm the unusual one? People always blame me. Who do I get to blame?"
My voice wandered, my thoughts cropping up, like the corn that Pops grows.
'Should I blame Pops? Dad? Mom? For leaving us both when we were so young?'
"Tsk!" And there it is again. An escape. One I can't find.
"Sho-should it be you I blame? Were you not my older brother? Shouldn't…shouldn't you have protected me?"
Of course, I couldn't find a living person to blame, so I stooped down to the dead.
"Maybe…maybe it's just me to blame. After all, I'm the one with no affinity for Orgone. The Gods weep, their tears blessing the people. So why, why do the Gods not cry for me?"
I'm unworthy.
"You'd have been blessed. I know it. I just know they'd have made you unparalleled under the heavens."
"At school," I grabbed the badge, which was embedded on my jacket. A white circle surrounding a crow. "The students, they laugh at me. All they do is ridicule me for being too much of a pussy to take 'The Test'."
I never understood it, what made them so much better than me? Aren't they just normal? We're different, yes, but neither of us were special.
"It's annoying, really. All Pops does is ramble on and on about how I bring him shame." My tone turned sharp, my teeth glistening in the sun. "Like, what am I supposed to do?! Huh?! Am I…am I just supposed to magically grow wings and fly out into the sky?! No matter how much I try…how much I do…I'm always stuck at the bottom."
"When you died…"
I died.
People don't care about me.
Their act of kindness. Their laughter. Their shame.
A toy.
A thing.
"It took a lot, but I'm in my last year of this school. It'll soon all be over."
Clenching my fists, my knuckles turned white, a river of blood kissing my academy emblem. "If only I was the one who died. A nobody who can't even use Orgone."
Something I always brought up on these visits. My inability to possess talent for Orgone.
Every year, a day of rain falls, but it isn't your everyday rain. Its colors vary, from wine red to the peachy palate of orange.
There's a saying, "With the Gods shed, come the ashes of the dead."
The Gods cry when life on other planets cease to naught. Their tears, the remnants of the dead. And those who live and breathe, unseen from myself, are gifted with the universe's power.
"Andrew," I called out, my hand wrapped around the corner of the stone. "…I feel most people would ask their loved ones to watch down on them. To bear witness in the future they chase. I however hope you aren't watching down on me."
When given power from the remnants of orgone, people receive the ability to manipulate it. Turn it into a weapon, utilize it to increase your muscle output, and so on.
I dreamt of being able to do so.
I hated it. The feeling as if I was a mere ant in this society, unable to carry my weight. Pops was sure to remind me of that.
Before I noticed it, the wetness that plagued my face was no longer from my own tears. Rather, your average day of rain began, the colorless clouds stretching across the sky.
"It seems that not only do the Gods miss you..but the Earth as well."
The rain will clean him right up.
Envy.
Even for the dead.
"That's my cue…" I stood up, brushed my knees off and picked the sheet off the ground, shoving it into my backpack.
My only time of solemnity was right now. Under this tree.
"Bye, big bro. Rest well, yeah?"
Throwing my backpack over my arms, I readied myself for the walk home.
"Of course," I cursed. "I don't have an umbrella."
Left with no choice, I couldn't help but laugh at myself. "You knew, didn't you…Mother Nature?"
Reassuring myself, I left the site, walking through the gates which I came.
…
Andrew Hashimoto
July 4, 2001
October 11, 2019