my own stranger

He often looks at me with his young 14 years old eyes, and i often do not take them with seriousness, dismissing him as a child with no maturity. Yet his eyes saw the world more than I ever had, his maturity masked in his mundane facade. Games I view as part of his boyish childhood brought great sense of belonging in him. It brought more than just the pleasure of playing, it brought him sisters closer than his own blood's, it brought him years of growing.

I would have never known his secret world if he had never came crying to me, down in the dumps, drunk like a fool. He repeated more than once, about the two girls who were so close to him, so so close. Like sisters he loved them, so much more than the one residing in the same house of his. Who broke his heart when a quarrel erupted just a month before one passed away. He cried so badly, it made tears flow so easily. How he missed her so, how he always seemed to feel her presence. About the black moth who never came back after flying around him in his room.

Now a girl named Lydia dominates his life. He could never loved a girl, nor want one anymore than he want her. Drunk as he can be, he confessed. She cried, not with tears of joy. He was heartbroken.

I never knew him as he is. I never knew his life. I knew nothing, nothing about him.

And i never felt any more than a failure I am feeling now.

I could never imagine such a complicated life behind this very simple boy. I could never imagine something like this could happen to a child, one living under my same roof. He went through so much, it felt heart-wrenching why one his age, his background ought to suffer so much.

I never knew.

I never been in such a position, complications in this teenage world. I never thought anyone in this house even would, now I'm worrying for more. I never accepted him as an adult, now I have a new pair of spectacles to wear. I never expected, now the unexpected came true.

Why have I been so blind?