F O U R
. . . .
(nick)
A short paragraph Nick wrote when he was 14. He is narrating the words he wrote ergo the breathes.
. . . .
What is the purpose of moving to a new neighborhood?
*breathe*
"It will be a different society there."
It's still a society.
"We could live a perfect life there."
The world isn't a utopia.
Don't expect it to be or ever be.
"You and I. The house will all be ours."
I cannot see your point.
"Nick, aren't you happy?"
How could I be now?
*breathe*
I was born out of the now defunct love of a woman and a man. That woman was my mother. That man was my father. Whether I wanted to be produced or not was not up to me.
They had chosen to keep me before I entered this world. Maybe, at that time, they were excited at the idea of expanding their family.
*breathe*
They were happy to welcome another child.
The thought of having a sibling must have allured the other too...as he says.
*breathe*
A son was born
three years ahead of me.
Unlike me, he was born out of
the stupidity of a man and a
woman. That woman is my mother.
But that man is not my father.
*breathe*
The three of them (my father, mother and her son) eagerly waited to greet me, not knowing how hypocritical they'd look like in the next years.
But after I exited the womb of my mother.....
*breath*
I immediately became a bird trapped in a cage.
. . . .
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