Sometimes I cannot help but wonder what I am doing here. Not 'here' specifically, but 'here' ultimately. I understand my role within this lifetime, no matter how much I choose to object or disagree with it. In a way, I am here to protect my brother and to try again at something I failed at the first time. I had been so focused on the fact that I clearly am not from this generation and that this is not my life--that I completely overlooked the reasons as to why. Why I am here, why I am functioning, and why I remember things that clearly I should not. Only recently have I realized the reasons. Or, at least, my suspected reasons.

I need to start over. I need to learn from my flashbacks. Learn from my past, and learn from the mistakes that were made. But not dwell on them. Yes, remember the things that I've been grated the ability to remember, and dont let those things fade from my understanding. But not to become stuck upon them and forget that I'm in the now and not the then. I remember my two intimate companions' names and this is both a blessing and a curse. A blessing to put a name to their faces and to be able to say 'yes, he/she was called ____, but I called them ____'. But a curse because now I know who I am grieving for. Arlena was the first. She had long flaming red hair, green eyes like fresh spring grass, fair skin and the softest hands you'd ever held. She had a gentle firmness about her, as if she could be caught snuggling the bunny that would later become her dinner. I fell instantly for her sense of confidence in everything she did. I knew that yes, as a damsel of those times, they were often weak willed and depended on men. And please do not see me as sexist for I am greatly the opposite, but those were the times. She seemed a polar opposite, very much independent and demanding in all her ways. She knew what she wanted and she would take it without the need to ask permission. I loved that fire about her.

We were together for a while before she introduced me to Nicolai. She knew that I admired both the sexes and, at the time, had no problem with sharing so long as it were an equal affection. When she said equal, she meant more for her and less for Nicolai. At first I agreed, getting to know him while still bowing to her wills. How could I deny her everything and anything she desired? He was younger than myself. Thinner and more frail, it seemed. He had dusty black hair that desperatly needed to be cut, but in a way--the shagginess of his unkept hair suited him. He had humble brown eyes and an adorable indentation in his cheeks when he grinned. But Nicolai were slightly different from men his age, which probably was no more than twenty. He were an adult in many, many ways. But he adored being treated like he were still a child. Being coddled or given a firm affection, told to do things rather than by request. I didnt mind it, really. I think in several ways, I actually preferred it. I suppose now the term for such a life is considered 'Dad Doms'. I've yet to understand it, but after talking to another who is in such a relationship and described how my own was with Nic, they said it's rather the same concept. I simply preferred to be called compassionate.

But where I failed in that life were that I often forgot the tasks at hand. The dangers in front of my own two eyes. Arlena was jealous, naturally, that I was soon giving more attention to Nicolai than herself. I felt, in part, that he needed it more than she did. She were so independant and self giving whilest he was the exact opposite, I felt he needed more guidance and affection than she did. But there is a fine line between needs and cravings. I didnt see it at the time. Not until everything spiralled and one thing led to another and..well, here I am.

That's the point though, isnt it? To know where you went wrong and to make a better choice? I want that for Ren. I want him to be happy and to not find his own demise with regret, wondering if he'd do it again if given the option. In our first years together, though I hadnt noticed it, I were already protecting him. When he'd get in a fight that he knew he couldnt win, I would take the lead and show him how. When he were in situations that he werent fully comfortable, I would guide him into the winning approach. Brothers, it seems. Either he is a new version of myself or perhaps even a newer Nicolai, I'll never know. They're so simular at times. But I've come to realize that spending all my time on figuring out my past and why I am in the present was wasteful and I were repeating my same mistakes.

I werent paying attention.

With certain events coming to light and my brother falling back into darkness over and over again, I had become so consumed with my own quest that I'd forgotten my original quest. Protect my Brother. The bruises on his ribs persist him. Persist me. My own ribs ache dreadfully from a binder that no longer fits, our chest increasing in size and causing not only physical pain but great emotional and mental strain. I believe that our continued growth is something more medical, and should be looked into. People of our age do not normally continue to grow in the chest unless there is something hormonally unbalanced. Perhaps our problems with our thyroid is causing the hormonal imbalance to spiral? I'll need to make an appointment but first, to get us back on track with taking our proper thyroid medications ON TIME. We've done well with it for the past week or so, but I want to ensure at least another week of it before having our levels tested.

Yes, top surgery is certainly becoming a priority in our future endeavors. But I need to also make an agreement of some sort with the insurance company to have it done. But I've seriously considered taking a time to see a Chiropractor as well for our back pain. Perhaps having a note from a chiropractor, agreeing with our notion that surgery would help our back pain, would aid in our case with the insurance company. Steps need to be taken, and one of us needs to actually get up and do them. But it is often so hard to find that courage. To find that ambition when all other attempts have been thrown aside or failed in such a manner as to cause great distress and depression. What else is there to do but keep trying? Failure is not an option when you are in a daily struggle with yourself. I am only happy that he has found comfort in his facial features and can, with confidence, take a photo of himself and not dislike how he sees himself.

So long as the photos are above chest level. I want to change this for him. For us both. Maybe then I'd have done something right.

Ah, here you are again Madam Five AM. My mistress of exhaustion has come to drag me back to her domain, haha.

With Care and Appreciation,

Alexandru

Attached Thought:

I have been doing more Mandala colorings. Perhaps with my next post, and perhaps some guidance on how, I will attach photos.