When he was younger, he thought it was normal to take care of his sisters. His Dad was out for work and it was okay because he knew that they had what they had because his father worked hard. He knew that his father was doing that not for the sake of it, but for a greater purpose.
When he was younger, he thought ut was normal that his mother worked overseas. He didn't get to see her, but that's okay because that's where she has to be and it's absolutely understandable.
When he was younger, he thought it was normal to stay at home doing chores and reading books rather than playing outside and spending time with parents. After all, how could he and his siblings enjoy a bonding time with people who were way older than them. They would probably not understand each other and get into disagreements anyway.
When he was younger, he thought it was normal to be alone. For him, his sister, his sisters, and back to just sister was and were and was enough. His father would visit and give them cool things and delicious food at random times so he knew that that was his father's way of saying that he was back and he was sorry he was gone for a while.
Somehow, despite no one being there to cook, there was always food ready for them all, leaving no need for them to worry about anything at all. That was until he grew older and older and his father appeared less and less and traveled here and there. With that observation, he took it upon himself to learn how to do things around the house from cleaning up to cooking food to fixing things.
He thought it was normal.
But how come, many people looked at him like he was strange?
Everywhere he went he felt stares and pitiful glances like he was some abandoned puppy or something. He wanted to tell them to stop, that he was just doing what he had to, but how were they going to understand if their whispers insist that he didn't have to do all that he did?
He cried once at night when his sister was sleeping soundly and he hated himself for it-- such a weak thing to do when he didn't really have anything to really cry about.
He cried for himself for the first time in his consciousness. The stares burned into his mind, the whispers and glances and strange feeling of unbelonging seared through his skin and he just wanted to bury himself under his arms.
He was smart enough, he was mentally quick, he was athletic, and he was a good kid. He didn't make trouble and wasn't a slacker. He had a talented sister and a hardwoeking father. What was wrong with him?
What was wrong with him?
Is it the way he looked?
He read in a lot of novels that people who wore glasses might be seen as weird, but even before he got glasses, he'd already felt all these.
He also didn't think his looks were a problem since he was, after all, a runway and commercial model ever since.
What was wrong with him?
It couldn't be because he was aloof because he'd always tried to be friendly to others and even greeted them with a smile.
He had one main friend-- the brother of the owner of the diner he worked at. That guy was crazy but he was a good guy and a good talker and good listener. If he needed anything, that guy would be ready to help him with a smile and no expectation.
These days that guy was almost nowhere to be found. He was a swimming champion who had extreme fame and popularity and was treated like a young hollywood star.
Without that friend, he felt lonely and secluded from the world.
His problem couldn't possibly be not being able to approach girls either because he's had a few flings and one relationship that only ended because the girl didn't want to try for a long distance relationship.
What was his problem?
As he watched his sister finally grow up and get surrounded by everyone, seemingly protected and loved and admired, he consequently felt a bit better. However, he also felt a bit upset. It seemed like he was a shadow and she was the star and they only saw her and treated him like someone who was just always there.
Wasn't he someone, too?
Of course, he couldn't say that, and he would never say that out loud because he might make his sister feel bad and he would hate to see her sad.
He was a good brother.
He must smile and be kind.
He must be strong and protect others.
He must stay silent about his worries and be there for others.
He must be selfless and brave and hardworking.
He must...
No, he thought, this all felt so wrong. What would he gain from pretending, when his feelings weren't known to anyone? How would people understand if he made them think something other than what he truly thought and felt?
Was he an obstacle that people couldn't figure out? Is that why he was looked at differently?
He looked at his apartment and breathed in the scent. It was the scent of flowers, just like how it smelled after she left him alone at the park. He hated it, but he loved it all the same.
What was wrong with him that she couldn't stay and try?
What was wrong with him that all he had was people who were barely there and some money and kniwledge that couldn't give him a long-lasting source of happiness and content?
Why was he treated so differently?
He couldn't figure it out so he just decided to sleep. Maybe he can visit his sister and help around in the house. Maybe that way he could find other things to think about and help with.
At least in some way he could be helpful.
After so many years, a little learning about himself wouldn't justify how he felt he was treated and he was determined to understand.
Someday. Somehow.