VONGOLA XI

history is ours for the taking

You should've seen the flames envelope your body. Like smoke, you disappeared from their memories. Humans are such fragile beings. They bend and they break; and in the end, they become a nothingness that has been known to exist since the beginning of time. That's how you wanted it to be. You wanted to disappear like mist before the sun and rain. You wanted to disappear before they could hold you back, before they could fill your head with the lies that haunted you in the first place. There was never an ounce of truth, never an ounce of sincerity in the words they used to keep you tied down. In the shadows, you watched them pour the poison in; and in the night, you let them feed you their worries, their pains, their anger at all the hope they'd lost. And what became of you? You, who could do nothing to free yourself. Helpless, worthless you, who could only dream of something better. You, who could barely grasp who you were anymore. Standing on unsteady limbs, you forced yourself to meet their expectations. But you should've known all too well, that there were limits to these kind of things, that it was only a matter of time before everything fell through. And so, step by step, you stumbled into your surrender. When they announced your death, I heard them speak in hushed tones, in voices like the midnight curse that bound your soul, perhaps the poison was too lethal, perhaps it was too much; and perhaps, if they had cared to notice from the start, it was all a mistake to begin with. This world was never yours. I know that you dreamt and dreamt of a life worth keeping, but try as you might, you could only meet such prospects with failure and disappointment. It wasn't your fault. It was never your fault. And yet, they told you over and over, you had to be your own saviour, you had to take control. And every time it happened, every time you couldn't do it, you couldn't change, you balled your fists and took the damage. Because if you had the scars to show for it, maybe they'd believe. Because if you could show them evidence, then maybe you wouldn't be held accountable. But they didn't see it, no, they couldn't see it. To them, you were one and the same. You were to blame. You were always to blame. And, believing this, you ended it with a twisted hatred for what it was, who it was, that you became.