Filial Piety.
That there was a feeling, I was sure. What it was, what it meant and why it was here, of that I was not.
You know, it's sad that I'm seated here writing this in my my little book at this little cafe I have started to frequent. Feels to me like I'm in a low budget Humans of New York article that might never make it to Facebook. That's exactly how it feels. No one will read this and that's why I am doing this.
Some people used to say I was a genius at writing, though I personally did not see it.
You might be wondering why I would be writing a letter to someone if I don't want them to read it. Well, let's just say that I do not want to be known anymore. Not like popular-ish known. I mean like, existence. If there was a pill like the one Keanu was given in the Matrix by Morpheus that allowed you not exist and be destroyed as peacefully and as soundlessly as one could, I would grab the fucking thing out of his brown hand and shove it into my throat, dry-swallowing it so he can't take it back. Just like that, he'd be wondering why he's sitting in a dark chair in a lonely room with only one pill in his hand, probably the one that allows you restart everything with no memory. You know, cause I don't exist anymore? No memory of me or what he was doing there. That might cause problems for him later on but I wouldn't care or know, I'd be fucking nonexistent. Un-alive. Not being.
Pretty dark stuff, right? I don't know. Some people used to say I was a genius at writing, though I personally did not see it. I just thought it was because I was in love and that was why I could get those letters and love notes that she seemed to like so much.
Yeah, I did love her. I think the word for it would be fierce. I loved her fiercely. I remember how when we were little, one of the other kids would push her down or something and I'd come running to fight whoever it was. Even then, around nine or ten years old, I knew that I wanted to kill anyone who touched my Ana. I wanted to stick my little penknife I got for my 7th birthday in their cheeks, through the teeth and slit them open to make another opening of my own.
But when I told Ana once, she told me that if I ever did that to someone, we would get separated forever and I might get killed so I had to content myself with beating them up till they got the idea.
That is, until my mom and dad caught Ana and myself fucking when we were 17 in my room. Now it wouldn't have been so big a deal if Ana wasn't my twin sister. I guess that was what made Dad mad because he started to hit me and when I didn't say anything, he slapped Ana.
And that is why i do not want to exist.
I kind of lost it then. I only remember carving extra smiles for mom and dad before stabbing them repeatedly until she dragged me away from the mess on the floor.
She said we had to run, and i agreed. We packed our bags and ran. To the one place no one would expect teenagers to come to, New York City. Yeah, she's staring outside the window at the little pigeons waddling about, while I write you this. I tell you, it was hard to escape but we did. She says we will have to change our names now and appearances now and I agreed. After all, the whole country is on the look out for us.
And that is why i do not want to exist. Because I know that i am an aberration, a disease and a mistaken product of nature that should never have been brought to life. For one to love his own sister like her would no other, it goes against the laws of nature and yet I cannot help it. I love her so much that every cell in my being vibrates when with her. As such, to rid this world of an abomination, I will have to end it all tonight. That is the only way we can ever live happy and free of who would pursue us to our deaths.
Thank you for liss
"Hey, Mathieu... Let me see what you're writing today." Ana reached for his journal, grabbing it before he could snatch it out of arms reach.