Distinct Thoughts

by Kira

There never truly is a moment in my life I have ever stopped to really think about what I was doing. Thinking back on it now, though, I think of how I should have. I should have stopped and thought about it before I went and ran off and did something stupid but then again, I was always like that growing up. The little hell raiser no one wanted to run into. I can't blame myself though, I didn't exactly grow up in a great place.

But you would think that, wouldn't you? I can tell what people think when they look at me. He had the world at his feet, and he gave it up. How can people say that? Live through my life, you begin to look at things in a different light. It's a lesson easily learned, though. He had the world at his feet all right, but it wasn't the world he wanted.

Want isn't a word I think of much, though. I did not want to live this life given to me on a silver tray. It was as though I was handed a bright, good life, but it wasn't what I really wanted. You can think of it this way, though. It's like eating your favorite meal, looking great on the outside, but on the inside, there's something wrong with it. You ask what, but why? It's you own opinion of the matter. Sure, it looks great on the outside, why isn't it great on the inside?

Say there was something wrong with it on the inside, something very bothering to you. Like a bone in a piece of chicken you didn't know was there. That's what I think of my life. It isn't a great run down of how my life is, but I'm not really that deep of a person.

Now, people don't really think about what I think, that is. This life I was given looked great on the outside. Perfect, even. Look at it yourself. I had loving parents, a great brother, and plenty of friends. Perfect? There's no way anything is that perfect. It was sour, growing up like that. Everything I ever did while growing up I was judged upon. My brother got along great though, didn't he? Everything he did was perfect to them, wasn't it?

A point I try to make often, even if it seems no one will listen. I look at my brother, and I see a person I don't know. Of course, I know him but I really don't know him. I see myself standing in his shadow, is what I see. He was always the one people liked, the bright intelligent one parents always like. Me, though, I'm a different story. I was wild growing up. A hell raiser, as I have said. The Chancellor hated the sight of me, though I never minded him. And that old Matron fellow. I could do just about anything to get on his bad side.

Am I really like that though? I know it's my fault, I gave myself a bad name to them. Maybe though, they didn't really understand me. They understood the person they though I was. They thought I should have been well brought up, and I will admit, that I was. I was taught plenty of things that would ensure I grew up into a good person, but I didn't want it. I wanted to live out there, where the walls blocked me from. What was out there? It wasn't often I got a chance to go.

My brother did not know me either, though, nor did he know of this wanting I had. I wanted to get out of the walls keeping me locked in to go outside. To see what else was in the world, and forget this place. That, I couldn't do. I may be able to leave this place one day, but I would never forget it. Even if I thought I was not wanted, and I thought the place kept me trapped, I would never forget it. It was not that simple.

Why was it that I could feel this way and my brother... he simply took it all well. He had never spoken of wanting to be out there in the world, exploring and seeing what everything was like. He remained the bright spot in the nobles and my parents' eyes, the good little boy. God, I hated him for it. I hated him for being such a grand person. I hated him for it.

Why? I suppose someone would easily assume I was jealous of my brother. Jealous. Jealous? Of him. There is no way in the world I would ever be envious of my brother. Dammit, I may have hated him for being who he was occasionally, but I was never jealous. What did he have that I did not have?

Now that I think of things more now, I can see why I might have been jealous of him though. Deep down inside, I know I wanted to be the one everyone admired and liked. But further inside me, I knew it wasn't possible. Maybe it was this that made me want to leave so badly, to get away and see the world. This feeling that came over me kept pulling at me, though, and it wouldn't go away.

Perhaps though, it was when Mother passed away that kept me down. Her death had come out of no where, I thought, it hurt so much. I had never experienced death until then, and this was a feeling I could not handle. It was something that pulled and pulled, and the pain never ceased, and the sadness never went away. Why then... I never did cry. Not at the funeral, anything. Not even when I found out she was gone.

I remember well what I did when I learned of her death. I went up to the highest tower and sat. For hours no one could find me, and I did not care. I knew what I was doing. Sometimes though, even now, I can climb up to the highest point I know and remember that. I still don't cry, though.

My brother... His opinion of the matter had always been a mystery to me. He did not shed any tears either then, he was simply stone cold for weeks after. No words would leave his mouth, and no one could say anything that reached him. That was, unless I was speaking to him. I knew he listened to me, but no words followed. For some reason, I did not mind, though. I talked to him, and it was to me that he actually said something in reply. Something only I could hear.

I suppose that must be when I came onto good terms with my brother. I never did let the word jealous enter my mind after that, nor did I let anyone's opinion of my brother and I bother me. He made sure of it also, though. He never allowed me to think that myself, or did he allow anyone to think of me like that.

In all, I suppose I should have respected him more. He was a good brother, and I appreciated him. It was only.... I have never been good with words. I never am serious when it comes to that sort of thing, but I think he knew. It was easy for him to see through me. There was no reason to tell him other wise.

I think it was Father's death that broke us apart once again. His death was murder, poisoned by the Empire. And the feelings.... rage, anger, hurt, pain, sadness, revenge. All of this rushed over me when I knew my father would die. I knew I would make the Empire pay for this, even if I had to kill each one myself. I could, and I would. I would fight each with my bare hands if I had to.

Funny. A coin toss was what took me away from the place I had wanted to leave for so long. A simple coin toss, and a fixed one at that. My brother knew that out Father's death was too much for me, and I would surely leave this place no matter what. Even to this day I think it was noble of him to give me my freedom so easily. But I know, ever since we were young, he knew he would be the one to run the country when father passed away.

A fixed coin toss, though. He thinks I did not know... I was not stupid, I knew about his little double-headed coin. And I didn't stop him. For years, it had been the one thing I wanted. I had to leave. I wanted to leave. I knew it... If I did not, something would happen. Something I would regret as would my brother.

South Figaro of all places I chose to run to. Why? I don't know exactly. I think it was the first place I came by that looked well enough to live in. But maybe, it was just the fact I wanted to stay close to home, even if being away from home was what I had really wanted. I suppose it was that. I'm not sure, but I do no regret going there.

Duncan was a good man. I learned many things from him I knew I would never forget in life, but I also learned many things from Duncan's son, Vargas. Along with the skills Duncan had taught me, Vargas taught me something else. He taught me hate.

I suppose I hated him. I could have hated Vargas I suppose, I was always quarreling with him. It was only natural we were at each other's throats. But for some reason, I never had that feeling inside me. Hate? No. It wasn't hate I held for him, but pity. Vargas feared I would become Duncan's successor, it was his own fault his own emotions came over him for that stupid reason. I knew Duncan. He was not the kind of man to choose a stranger over his son.

This trial made me think of how the successor problem had affected my life before. Who would be the king? There was a simple answer to that, but this had no simple answer. This led on into death. And I blame myself for it.

I did blame myself for some time of Duncan's death. If I had never come along, Duncan would have lived peacefully. I suppose I did manage to stop myself from thinking that though. I turned my attention to who had truly killed Duncan, his own son, Vargas. I have said I did not hate Vargas, not even after this news. No, I did not hate him. I simply wanted him dead.

Maybe that is why I trailed him into the mountains, I don't know. But it turned out to be a good thing I did. For ten years I had been away from my brother and my home, it was quite possible it was Vargas that led me back to it. Ironic, isn't it?

I regret killing Vargas, though. He didn't truly deserve to die. No one does. It was an act of rage. I had to do something, and that was what I allowed myself to fall to. Killing someone. I will always regret it, but I would never take back what I did. I know it's not possible.

Freedom was a stupid word then. I had wanted my freedom, which had only led into being trapped in Vargas and Duncan's world. Death must surround me. Maybe it's my fault Mother is dead, as is Father and Duncan. It is my fault, right? I should have thought about it. I will regret not thinking first. I should always think first.

The truth is... I can't stop and think about it. I have always acted on a limb. It's stupid of me, but I do... My brother never has. I will always live in his shadow. His shadow and my own guilt for the death surrounding my life.

I should have actually thought about everything first... I should have, but I didn't. It is my fault, and I know it. It is my fault I am envious of my brother, it is my fault my parents are dead, it is my fault Duncan is gone, and it is my fault Vargas is gone.

It makes me wonder why I should still be living. I should end it now, before I kill anyone else. End my life now. That may be the first thing right I have ever thought of.

And this I have actually thought about often. Long hours, staying awake during the night. I should, shouldn't I? No one would mind, especially those nobles at Figaro Castle. No one would care to lose the life of Sabin Rene Figaro.

I will end it now.

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