It is impossible for me to understand that kind of openness. The bond between siblings is suppose to only be second to the bond between parents and their children. A beautiful table, beside the hearth, filled to the brim with aromatic fare. Children laughing and adults smiling, all fashioned by an imagination of love and trust. It's an image I just cannot conjure up. I'm just a picture on the mantle. Faded, obstructed...fallen to the back of the memory, because that connection and warmth just wasn't there. Not for lack of trying...but it was simply not meant to be.
For whatever reason, I tore myself away from everything when I was a child. I was a complete and utter loner. Alone in my own self, growing sick of the solidarity; and eventually becoming dependant on it. I was distant from my family, the kids at school, everyone. I secluded myself; partly because I didn't want to get involved, partly because I didn't know how to interact. On Halloween 1989, a little scruffy blonde kid walked up to me and told me he liked my costume. And for the first time, I felt safe opening my eyes and my mouth. The first time my thoughts actually left my own head.
Of course, later on the Calvinists took me in, and thru them and Kira I became part of the family...my true family. Those who have really been there for me. Even those who I consider my arch rivals are still my family. I still love all of them. My brothers and sisters, all that I address by those synonyms...I truly do consider them. Not those who share my blood. To me that means nothing. But still, it's like sitting inside a unlit room, writing letters to the outside. Sure, it's interaction, but it's cold, emotionless. Black and white words on yellowed writing paper aren't any audience to one's own ranting, raving, thoughts and ideas. Everything fades.
So I sit in my own isolation. My own fears and paranoia weigh on me, while I look on such a happy setting. It would have been nice...to not be alone. It would have been nice, to truly feel loved and love back.
All it does is increase my bitterness, anger, and apathy. When I hear them talk like that, all I want to do is rip it all apart; so I can feel some satisfaction in them being as alone as I am. So they can be driven to the edge of insanity by solidarity.