Without Faces
Posted: Sat Apr 13, 2013 11:51 am
“The complaint was the answer.
To have heard myself making it was to be answered.
Lightly men talk of saying what they mean.
Often when he was teaching me to write in Greek the Fox would say, 'Child, to say the very thing you really mean, the whole of it, nothing more or less or other than what you really mean; that's the whole art and joy of words.'
A glib saying.
Act 1: Storge
I wonder what it was like.. for my mother to hear me crying for the first time?
It was a snowing winter day, when I was born. The blinding cold outside was numbing away the warmth of sunlight, it felt as if the ceaseless white howling could crack through the windows and engulf us, softly silencing one of us as my mother tightening arms finally stopped trembling...
or so I was told, by a "friend of the family".. whom I suspect wasn't even there. I was told that the cold had taken her away, the first time I visited my mother's grave.
Perhaps I should have cried, maybe I should have said i loved her.. but i don't even know her,
All I felt was.. nothing.
I attributed the deadness of my heart to.. that man. My "father". Who couldn't even bother to clean his wife's grave every once in a few years.
He was an 'ultra-nationalist', stout advocator of the "true spirit of Japan" or whatever nonsense he spews in his propagandas,
He couldn't even take the time to acknowledge my presence, leaving me in the care of 'business associates', "family friends" whom were seldom without tattoos, cigarettes, and small arms. Along with whatever contraband hidden or smuggled under nationalistic guise of that man's politics.
Being raised amidst criminals. It's no wonder that I got into fights, once accidentally punching the wrong classmate so hard that he bled through the nose. The other one who had deserved it got a throat full of sand. But the best part was that no one dared touched me, in fear of my .."family".
Unapologetic as I must have seemed, I was not unreasonable, I just wanted to ..make friends. Even if I've hurt them so hard physically, I really yearned even harder for them to stop ignoring me.
To leave when I approach, to whisper mean things behind me, to think of me as a blight in their lives ..they were afraid to even look at me, and I grew to fear being shunned forever. As if I was born as a criminal and undeserving to become a person.
Unkind a boy I must have been, I was not unfeeling, .....I didn't want to be alone.
Finding my life empty of warmth, my heart must have drifted back to the days I was born, as I walked blindly across the icy street, and her hand pulled me to her from the skidding truck barely missing me by the breadth of a monstrous wind.
It was too loud to hear, the wailing horn from an instant before; it was too bright to see, the value of my life watering in my eyes; it was too much to bear, the mute girl who couldn't scream at me to stop, and just risked her precious life to save me.
i cried. i finally cried ...i cried and cried and couldn't stand anymore, and she held me, silent as the snow falling around us. i cried till i lost myself, till i lost my voice, till i found her beautiful smiling face.
To have heard myself making it was to be answered.
Lightly men talk of saying what they mean.
Often when he was teaching me to write in Greek the Fox would say, 'Child, to say the very thing you really mean, the whole of it, nothing more or less or other than what you really mean; that's the whole art and joy of words.'
A glib saying.
Act 1: Storge
I wonder what it was like.. for my mother to hear me crying for the first time?
It was a snowing winter day, when I was born. The blinding cold outside was numbing away the warmth of sunlight, it felt as if the ceaseless white howling could crack through the windows and engulf us, softly silencing one of us as my mother tightening arms finally stopped trembling...
or so I was told, by a "friend of the family".. whom I suspect wasn't even there. I was told that the cold had taken her away, the first time I visited my mother's grave.
Perhaps I should have cried, maybe I should have said i loved her.. but i don't even know her,
All I felt was.. nothing.
I attributed the deadness of my heart to.. that man. My "father". Who couldn't even bother to clean his wife's grave every once in a few years.
He was an 'ultra-nationalist', stout advocator of the "true spirit of Japan" or whatever nonsense he spews in his propagandas,
He couldn't even take the time to acknowledge my presence, leaving me in the care of 'business associates', "family friends" whom were seldom without tattoos, cigarettes, and small arms. Along with whatever contraband hidden or smuggled under nationalistic guise of that man's politics.
Being raised amidst criminals. It's no wonder that I got into fights, once accidentally punching the wrong classmate so hard that he bled through the nose. The other one who had deserved it got a throat full of sand. But the best part was that no one dared touched me, in fear of my .."family".
Unapologetic as I must have seemed, I was not unreasonable, I just wanted to ..make friends. Even if I've hurt them so hard physically, I really yearned even harder for them to stop ignoring me.
To leave when I approach, to whisper mean things behind me, to think of me as a blight in their lives ..they were afraid to even look at me, and I grew to fear being shunned forever. As if I was born as a criminal and undeserving to become a person.
Unkind a boy I must have been, I was not unfeeling, .....I didn't want to be alone.
Finding my life empty of warmth, my heart must have drifted back to the days I was born, as I walked blindly across the icy street, and her hand pulled me to her from the skidding truck barely missing me by the breadth of a monstrous wind.
It was too loud to hear, the wailing horn from an instant before; it was too bright to see, the value of my life watering in my eyes; it was too much to bear, the mute girl who couldn't scream at me to stop, and just risked her precious life to save me.
i cried. i finally cried ...i cried and cried and couldn't stand anymore, and she held me, silent as the snow falling around us. i cried till i lost myself, till i lost my voice, till i found her beautiful smiling face.