#heisadopted

I feel like a stone shattering a window.

Because every time this topic comes up I feel separated from him, from them, by a thin wall which nobody else but me seems to be able to sense.

It seems a difficult topic for them too, highly sensitive, therefore they avoid talking about it or do it behind my back. The difference then lies in the way how they talk about it, because when they do then it sounds like if it wouldn’t be much of a problem. I’m their son, his brother, no more questions. That’s why I feel like shattering their reality, this sheer wall around their easy view of things.

Because it’s a problem and if not for them, then still for me.

And my view is sentimentally charged. Just as a stone is made of several microscopic minerals do I consist of masses of emotions then, feel them pressed together into a psychological rock-like shape, within which none of those feelings can be clearly specified or named. But they are all there, sparking, burning, hidden in a sore form of overwhelmingly black weight.