Why...was my twin so different?
journal entry 1
Dear whoever reads this,
They would laugh and smile at us. Happy that we played together, but never did they see anything wrong with him playing with my dolls. Not once did they tell him that dolls were for girls. They thought it was cute that the two of us, brother and sister, twins, would play dolls for hours. We would have so much fun playing together, him and I. At times, it seemed like he never played with his toys it was always mine, but nobody ever told him anything was wrong with that. It was after all cute of us to be playing together. But maybe they should have told him that boys do not play with dolls. Maybe they should have given him action figures instead of letting him play with my dolls. Maybe they should have let him play outside with a soccer ball instead of playing dress up with me. Maybe they should have kept him away from all my stuffed animals, especially the unicorns. But he loved the unicorns despite everything; he loved their colorful hair, their white, soft fluffiness. But boys should not like rainbow unicorns, they should not like playing dolls, playing dress up, they should not enjoy spending so much time with their twin sister. But he was different and at the time, us being so young, I had liked him being so different, he was my only playmate.
We used to love to be outside. We would run and roll in the grass, picking colorful flowers for our parents. The two of us would play hide-and-seek and eat ice cream in our tree house during the summer. When spring came we would chase butterflies and ladybugs, giggling whenever we caught one. We never kept the pretty insects though, we always let them go. The two of us had loved to push each other on the swings when we went to the park. The park was one of our favorite places.
As we grew older, we grew closer. Everything seemed wonderful but looking back, I can see all the flaws that back then I had been too blind to see. I never noticed how different he really was. Compared to every other boy his age, my twin was like an alien. Thinking back, I know that were too blame, our parents for encouraging him to play with me and for not stopping us and me for never complaining about a boy playing with me. Even when I’d put him in a dress and heels, no one ever stopped us and maybe that’s why he turned out the way he did. Maybe if I had pushed him away or not been as close as I was to him he wouldn’t have become what he did. But I can’t change that now though I never wanted to change my brother. I love…loved my brother, everything about him was lovable, from his golden honey eyes to his fiery red, brown hair, everything about him brought you in…but not everything made you want to stay.
Different is better than being the same…right? I used to think so, but for some people things or other people that are different are alien to them and sometimes that scares them. It scares them so much that sometimes they do things that they later come to regret even thinking about it…but sometimes they don’t, sometimes they gloat and are happy for what they have done. But not everyone will be happy, some will be heartbroken, others fear stricken…but some will be shattered
My brother was different in a way that made people look at him as if he was a disgusting insect. They either acted like he did not exist or looked upon him with complete loathing and repulsion, but none of them knew him. They only knew what he was or what people said about him behind his back…no one knew him how I did. He tried letting people in but that only seemed to push them farther. But my brother was strong he faced each day with a smile and his head held high. He ignored all the insults that were pushed at him, ignored all the horrible things that were written on his locker or notebooks, he was strong. But I guess he wasn’t strong enough to hold off a gang of guys who wanted him dead.
But even when punches were being thrown to his body he never gave in to the demands of the other boys. Even when he was being kicked in the face not once did he beg them for mercy. With a kick to his chest, a sickening ‘crack’ could be heard, but he only bit his tongue to keep himself from screaming out in pain. Blood trickled out from various wounds on his body caused by the knife someone pulled out. The red velvet pooled around him as struggled to breathe around the hand that was blocking his air. Insults flew from every mouth of those boys…but not once did they stop to think that maybe being different isn’t so bad, not once did they think maybe he has a family, friends that love him. No, instead they only thought of riding this world of one more alien. My brother did not deserve to have a knife pulled out in front of him; he did not deserve to watch his attackers laugh as his blood smeared on their hands. My brother deserved so many better things than having a rope tied around his hands and feet or a blind fold around his eyes as he heard the click of a gun.
He did not deserve having to sit in the dark, waiting for his death to come. He should not have had to go through being beaten, almost drowning in ice-cold water, being suffocated to the point of unconsciousness, being physically abused by unseen voices and eventually being stabbed in the heart and shot several times in the head. My brother did not deserve any of that; no one could ever deserve something so horrible happening to them. He deserved to finish high school, find that special someone, get his first kiss with that certain someone but he’ll never be able to do any of that; he’ll never be able to sit in our backyard tree and watch the sunset, he’ll never be able to sing at the top of his lungs to songs that annoy our parents, he’ll never be able to smell our moms home backed pies. Every little thing that I do today I know he will never be able to do anymore, all because he was different.
Insulting him wasn’t enough, ignoring him either someone just had to step over the line and send him to an early grave. Even on the day of his funeral, people still made comments about him. Through my tears, I watched people give his coffin dirty looks, through my tears I watched my fist collide with several faces before I was taken screaming to another room. I couldn’t believe those people my brother was in a coffin right in front of them yet they still didn’t give him the respect he deserved. The coffin couldn’t even be opened because of how bad his body looked. Why are people like this? Why are they so afraid of the things that aren’t all the same? Why couldn’t my brother be accepted among the other students? Did he really need to die? No he didn’t need to die the people around him needed to stop pacing by the water and just dive right in. I hope that with time the gaping hole in my heart where my brother used to be will heal, though I know it’ll leave an ugly scar, I don’t want to forget him I know I can never forget my twin but I’m tired of crying every night holding his picture. I know that I’ll never be able to forgive the people who hurt and took my brother from me, from any chance he had of a happy life. I can never forgive them. Our parents were devastated by the loss of their only son the way he died didn’t help either. I know they’ll never forgive those people either, but I hope Kael can find a way to let this go, to move on.
I know he has not left yet I know he is still here but it breaks my heart even more to know he cannot leave.
Kael…I know you’re here reading this and I know you show me what happened to you in my dreams but…you have to leave. Please, find a way to let go.
I still have the rainbow unicorn he loved so much. He loved bright colors well he loved colors period. That unicorn sits on my dresser reminding me of him everyday. Such a pretty unicorn. Goodnight rainbow unicorn. Goodnight Kael. I hope you can still see the rainbows.
Sincerely,
Krystal
They would laugh and smile at us. Happy that we played together, but never did they see anything wrong with him playing with my dolls. Not once did they tell him that dolls were for girls. They thought it was cute that the two of us, brother and sister, twins, would play dolls for hours. We would have so much fun playing together, him and I. At times, it seemed like he never played with his toys it was always mine, but nobody ever told him anything was wrong with that. It was after all cute of us to be playing together. But maybe they should have told him that boys do not play with dolls. Maybe they should have given him action figures instead of letting him play with my dolls. Maybe they should have let him play outside with a soccer ball instead of playing dress up with me. Maybe they should have kept him away from all my stuffed animals, especially the unicorns. But he loved the unicorns despite everything; he loved their colorful hair, their white, soft fluffiness. But boys should not like rainbow unicorns, they should not like playing dolls, playing dress up, they should not enjoy spending so much time with their twin sister. But he was different and at the time, us being so young, I had liked him being so different, he was my only playmate.
We used to love to be outside. We would run and roll in the grass, picking colorful flowers for our parents. The two of us would play hide-and-seek and eat ice cream in our tree house during the summer. When spring came we would chase butterflies and ladybugs, giggling whenever we caught one. We never kept the pretty insects though, we always let them go. The two of us had loved to push each other on the swings when we went to the park. The park was one of our favorite places.
As we grew older, we grew closer. Everything seemed wonderful but looking back, I can see all the flaws that back then I had been too blind to see. I never noticed how different he really was. Compared to every other boy his age, my twin was like an alien. Thinking back, I know that were too blame, our parents for encouraging him to play with me and for not stopping us and me for never complaining about a boy playing with me. Even when I’d put him in a dress and heels, no one ever stopped us and maybe that’s why he turned out the way he did. Maybe if I had pushed him away or not been as close as I was to him he wouldn’t have become what he did. But I can’t change that now though I never wanted to change my brother. I love…loved my brother, everything about him was lovable, from his golden honey eyes to his fiery red, brown hair, everything about him brought you in…but not everything made you want to stay.
Different is better than being the same…right? I used to think so, but for some people things or other people that are different are alien to them and sometimes that scares them. It scares them so much that sometimes they do things that they later come to regret even thinking about it…but sometimes they don’t, sometimes they gloat and are happy for what they have done. But not everyone will be happy, some will be heartbroken, others fear stricken…but some will be shattered
My brother was different in a way that made people look at him as if he was a disgusting insect. They either acted like he did not exist or looked upon him with complete loathing and repulsion, but none of them knew him. They only knew what he was or what people said about him behind his back…no one knew him how I did. He tried letting people in but that only seemed to push them farther. But my brother was strong he faced each day with a smile and his head held high. He ignored all the insults that were pushed at him, ignored all the horrible things that were written on his locker or notebooks, he was strong. But I guess he wasn’t strong enough to hold off a gang of guys who wanted him dead.
But even when punches were being thrown to his body he never gave in to the demands of the other boys. Even when he was being kicked in the face not once did he beg them for mercy. With a kick to his chest, a sickening ‘crack’ could be heard, but he only bit his tongue to keep himself from screaming out in pain. Blood trickled out from various wounds on his body caused by the knife someone pulled out. The red velvet pooled around him as struggled to breathe around the hand that was blocking his air. Insults flew from every mouth of those boys…but not once did they stop to think that maybe being different isn’t so bad, not once did they think maybe he has a family, friends that love him. No, instead they only thought of riding this world of one more alien. My brother did not deserve to have a knife pulled out in front of him; he did not deserve to watch his attackers laugh as his blood smeared on their hands. My brother deserved so many better things than having a rope tied around his hands and feet or a blind fold around his eyes as he heard the click of a gun.
He did not deserve having to sit in the dark, waiting for his death to come. He should not have had to go through being beaten, almost drowning in ice-cold water, being suffocated to the point of unconsciousness, being physically abused by unseen voices and eventually being stabbed in the heart and shot several times in the head. My brother did not deserve any of that; no one could ever deserve something so horrible happening to them. He deserved to finish high school, find that special someone, get his first kiss with that certain someone but he’ll never be able to do any of that; he’ll never be able to sit in our backyard tree and watch the sunset, he’ll never be able to sing at the top of his lungs to songs that annoy our parents, he’ll never be able to smell our moms home backed pies. Every little thing that I do today I know he will never be able to do anymore, all because he was different.
Insulting him wasn’t enough, ignoring him either someone just had to step over the line and send him to an early grave. Even on the day of his funeral, people still made comments about him. Through my tears, I watched people give his coffin dirty looks, through my tears I watched my fist collide with several faces before I was taken screaming to another room. I couldn’t believe those people my brother was in a coffin right in front of them yet they still didn’t give him the respect he deserved. The coffin couldn’t even be opened because of how bad his body looked. Why are people like this? Why are they so afraid of the things that aren’t all the same? Why couldn’t my brother be accepted among the other students? Did he really need to die? No he didn’t need to die the people around him needed to stop pacing by the water and just dive right in. I hope that with time the gaping hole in my heart where my brother used to be will heal, though I know it’ll leave an ugly scar, I don’t want to forget him I know I can never forget my twin but I’m tired of crying every night holding his picture. I know that I’ll never be able to forgive the people who hurt and took my brother from me, from any chance he had of a happy life. I can never forgive them. Our parents were devastated by the loss of their only son the way he died didn’t help either. I know they’ll never forgive those people either, but I hope Kael can find a way to let this go, to move on.
I know he has not left yet I know he is still here but it breaks my heart even more to know he cannot leave.
Kael…I know you’re here reading this and I know you show me what happened to you in my dreams but…you have to leave. Please, find a way to let go.
I still have the rainbow unicorn he loved so much. He loved bright colors well he loved colors period. That unicorn sits on my dresser reminding me of him everyday. Such a pretty unicorn. Goodnight rainbow unicorn. Goodnight Kael. I hope you can still see the rainbows.
Sincerely,
Krystal
♠ ♠ ♠
hmm....dont really know bout this one...hmm...