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You remind me of him.
When I see you talk endlessly about a new interest of yours or laugh with joy thinking about another adventure with your friends, you remind me of him, and it makes me feel like he’s still here.
It’s irrational. It’s weird. If I ever told you, you’d stare at me in question. “What did I do?” you’d say.
But you didn’t know him as I did. You didn’t and you never will.
Why do you remind me of him? Why can’t I think of anything else when I see you?
(Why can’t I think of you when I see you, the wonder that is you, your own miracle?)
After all, you’re nothing alike.
You are not him and he was not you.
You create. You are an angel of creation; it flows freely through your veins, an essence definitive. It comes naturally to you, like an energy you emit simply by existing. You don’t realize it, but this life, this heart of yours is a wonderful thing in itself.
He destroyed. That’s what he only knew. Death and screams followed his path as he kept on destroying. His wrath, this fire of his, burned endlessly with no intent to cease. Destruction was his natural order, spreading it was his purpose. He never learned.
(Am I him or you? There's a clear boundary between you. But if so, then what am I? Where does one draw the line and set the border? How do I know where I am on the spectrum? Could I ever be you? Or am I doomed to be him because no one could ever be you?
Do I have a choice?)
How can I think you’re similar?
Nothing about you resembles him.
Good against bad, white against black, creation against destruction.
Brother against brother.
It’s ironic, really. The purest of creators, destroying the ultimate of destroyers. Light so bright it gets rid of all shadow.
You killed him, but you’re not to blame. You had to. It was what’s right.
Him or the world?
Choose, choose, choose, cho-
Choose the world. This is what heroes do.
(Does this make me a hero? Or have I gone too far to rise back up?
Is it worth being a hero when it costs everything?
Could I be the villain simply because I hadn’t saved him?)
Brother against brother, brother killing brother.
You are nothing alike.
That’s why he fought you. That’s why you killed him.
Polar opposites could never be alike.
Then why do I insist on seeing him in you?
Maybe good cannot exist without evil. Maybe there is a balance. Maybe they're not so different.
Yin and yang.
Good inside evil and evil inside good. Black and white coexisting to create something new. Destruction and creation as two sides of the same coin. Shadow in any part light cannot reach.
Maybe you’re not different just because you’re opposites.
Maybe that’s what makes you similar.
You talk the same. He was louder and more blunt with his words, but the excitement stays the same.
You laugh the same. The joy is more apparent with you than with his teasing, but the feeling stays the same.
You are the order where he is chaos.
Is that why you remind me of him?
Well, in the end, it doesn't matter.
What is done cannot be undone.
But, even after everything, in your good and your bad, you’re both my little brothers.
I knew you like no one ever did.
And I’ll love you even if you don’t.