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Well, there's blood in these veins,
And I cry when in pain,
I'm only human on the inside,
And if looks could deceive,
Make it hard to believe,
I'm only human on the inside…
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They say that when you lose an eye that your sense of depth perception can be
altered. Things appear nearer than they actually are, and so you can easily miss
tables, and other such furniture. I've smashed my fair share of plates,
misjudging distances.
Walls have also caused me problems. Not so often nowadays, as when I first lost
my eye, but still, we occasionally collide. Taking routes by memory, not turning
my head to check the door was actually where I thought. One step too many, and a
quick left turn suddenly becomes a trip to the floor. Garden has metal
bulkheads…
It hurts.
But what hurts more is the fact that if I am not with my posse, that nobody, not
even one of the instructors, would stop to pick me up. To check that I haven't
knocked myself senseless. Am I that unapproachable?
No, that's a lie too. What hurts even more than that is the sniggers and the
snide comments as they walk past. Laughing at the girl on the floor trying to
regain her dignity. I may not see as they do, but there is nothing wrong with my
hearing.
But no matter. I am self-sufficient. I have developed a thick skin over the
years, not just to the bruises, but also to the blunt comments.
Even before half of my world was pushed into darkness, I was different to all
the others. So what if I break a few cups, or bang into a few doorways. So what
if I take frequent trips to the infirmary to have my hand healed yet again, when
I overcompensate for my disability, and cut myself with my pinwheels return. So
what if the patch is ugly. I survive.
They say "look at her" and point and stare, at my hair, my eye, my
complexion. Yes, I am an albino. It may be rare, but I am proof that such a
thing still exists. I know I am not a shining example of the beauty in Garden,
but at least I have a link to my past. Be it a tenuous genetic one…
Being an orphan, being abandoned, is hard. I can't help but wonder why my
parents didn't want me. Why they rejected me. Or did they die, as so may others
did? I know logically that I'll never know. But I still wonder.
Children can be so cruel. They don't soften their words the way that adults do.
If they have something to say, it comes blunt. I hated the orphanage.
Children fear what they don't understand. And they certainly didn't understand
me.
They say that I have an impediment, that my speech is distorted. But my lack of
language use does not make me stupid. My staccato style may be ungainly and
loud, but I communicate. It's not that I don't know the words. It's that the
words don't want to know me.
It's not like I don't try.
I don't want to be different.
I envy a lot of people in Garden. Those prettier, cleverer. Those with two eyes.
Those with a large circle of friends. Those who find social interaction easy.
They say that I am violent. And yes, that's true enough. It's a moomba eat
moomba world out there. If you want something, you have to fight for it. Nobody
ever gave me anything.
Protect yourself. Put up the walls. You are different. You talk funny. You're
ugly. You're a freak. Pick yourself up off the floor.
Life has never been easy.
Life never will be.
But for now, I am content. I am part of a group, a committee, who have accepted
me for what, for who, I am. I have friends, though Hyne knows why Raijin has
stuck with me all these years. Why he chose me, out of everybody in the
orphanage, to be his friend.
Out of sympathy, maybe.
I don't mean to physically hurt him, but it is so frustrating when I have
something to say, and only a handful of words to try and communicate it with.
He is my brother, and I love him. Just because I don't show it publicly, doesn't
make the emotion any less valid.
Then there is Seifer.
How we came to be friends still remains a mystery to me. Lost in the depths of
time. I can't remember a day when we met, when we became a posse.
But it happened, and I am grateful.
He has a purpose, a dream. A goal to aim towards. He has power, and strength. He
has courage to push forward, to try things. He doesn't mind if he makes enemies
of people along the way.
But I mind. Although I wish I didn't.
I also care for him… more deeply than he seems to realise. And so I follow his
dreams, dragged along by the current he creates. Always one step behind.
Watching his back.
Hoping one day he'll turn around and notice.
They say that when you lose an eye, that your sense of depth perception can be
altered.
And I feel with Seifer Almasy I am in way over my head.
The End
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Disclaimer:
Squaresoft own all the good stuff, I just have the story to call my own…
Lady_illyna@hotmail.com
Lyrics are from "Human" By the Pretenders (1999).
Again, a favourite song of mine.
Thanks for reading!