Blue and White

It’s been… a whirlwind. There isn’t enough pages in this journal for me to write about how much happened, or how it happened, or when. Everything blurs together. Faces, names, people, stories, emotions. Its… intense. And it’s crushing me. And…
 
I learned something about myself I wish I hadn’t known.
 
No matter where I go here, I am alone.
 
I got my cloak tailored. They integrated my blue travelling cloak as a lining within my new, white, Den Kryn cloak. The inner blue lining has stitches that show all the damage that cloak took. It shows where the fabric tore away, where the dangers of the wild ripped and tore at me, where the dirt, grime, and sharp teeth of the deep woods bit against me, cut into me, molded me, folded me, strengthened me.
 
The outside is a brilliant white. The emblem of Den Kryn in full view. Shining, blinding, radiant, impressive, and intimidating.
 
And nothing could more easily symbolize the struggle I am facing now. The pulls and pushes I get from those I want to be friends with. The judgements and decisions made about who I am by people who watch me walk by.
 
I want friends. I need friends. But out there, kids my age only see the white. They see that shining, radiant, intimidating white. They shut their eyes. They look away. They turn their backs. I am something so beyond them. So… above them. How could I, this beacon of power and honor EVER relate to their blue selves. To their struggles. To the way that the world has ripped at THEM. Torn at THEM. Bit at THEM. I am pure, and mighty, and high. They struggle. They work meaningless and tedious jobs just to make enough money to feed themselves and their own. They toil with fabrics and sit on top of ruined towers DREAMING of what it could be like to leave. Marveling at a singular moment of bright, brilliant sunlight before returning to their dark, blue, damaged lives. And how could this beacon relate to that? How could I relate to that?
 
I can. But how can I show them that when I don’t have the chance? How can I open up to someone if they start the conversation turned away or with their eyes shut? How can I show them my hurt if I don’t have the chance to grow to trust them first? How can I, whose father was a JEWEL in King Dwendal’s sword, possibly even explain my life story to anyone my age here? And even if I had the chance, it would only alienate them MORE. Because I DO fucking deserve this, because I DID do something NO kid my age EVER will have the chance to do. And this brilliant white cloak that I wear outwardly, the first impression anyone receives of me, will seem to be a shell around me that’s even MORE impenetrable. How can I make friends with people who view me as that? As a shining beacon of power and radiance.
 
And then there’s everyone here at the house. And now there’s more of them too. Adults who wear this brilliant white and don’t turn away, but look underneath. They see my hurt. They see my wounds. They see the creases and stitches in the blue of my cloak, and they judge me for it. They actively judge me for it and judge me a child, as someone hurt, as someone damaged, as someone who needs to be prodded and goaded and lead and pushed and molded. They stop me from hiding away, but push me away from doing what I want. They pull me out into the open only to tell me what it is I need to do. They ignore the radiant part of me. They ignore the fact that I AM someone powerful, who deserves respect, and deserves the right to make his own decisions because they ONLY see a damaged, breakable, malleable child. How can I make friends with people who view me as that? As someone who needs to be stitched together and molded by hands that are not my own.
 
And so there are only 2 courses of action I can see ahead that make me feel… anything like I want to feel.
 
I can move out. Live with my uncle. Take my mother’s name. Hang up this cloak. Go to school. Be a kid. Tell people the story of how my mother died and my uncle adopted me and I’ve been living with him ever since. Meet people my age. But then I need to give up everything here. I need to give up Charlie and Panlo and Thistle and Ael. Can I do that? I love them too much.
 
Or I can leave Rosohna. I can find who here wants to head out and go on an adventure. I am sure Ael wants to sort things out with her false sister and I can tell Thistle misses the coast. Maybe we could visit Panlo and Charlie’s Circus, or… find the rest of my family. But I would need them there, and they wont listen to me. They won’t want to go out. They are happy here, and so with this choice I am forcing them to choose between happiness and me. I can’t be that selfish. And I sacrifice my chance at a regular, normal childhood. A regular, normal friendship.
 
I cant believe I’m writing this, but the happiest days of my life were on the road between Nogvurot and Xhorhas. Where I felt… useful. Cared for. Necessary. Loved. Powerful.
 
And I spent the whole time being a piece of shit. I spent the whole time letting it pass through my fingers. I spent the whole time not realizing I was going to lose that feeling. I spent the whole time...pushing back.
 
And now I’m alone. A brilliant white with a damaged blue. Too bright and intimidating for anyone my age to approach, and too damaged and broken for anyone older to navigate.
 
And that’s why I want to run away all the time. That's why I hide. I shine to bright and I hurt too deeply.
 
And I'm alone.